


Play It Again, Sam

by TheQueensBlade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, CULLEN LOVES FANCY LINGERIE, Canon Divergence, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Cullen and Leliana also kind of have a cute friendship in this, Cullen and the Bard of Skyhold, Cullen's Cock Cures All, Cullenlingus, Cunnilingus, DORIAN IS ALWAYS MY FAVORITE BEST FRIEND, Don't you get tired of the Inquisitor and Cullen a little bit, F/M, Hey the Inquisitor is sort of the bad guy in this for a little while, Love Triangle, Romantic Cullen, Slight Canon Divergence, Smut, Smutty, Spanking, Story Interspersed with plenty of SMUT, Story in Places Smut in Places, cullenmance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueensBlade/pseuds/TheQueensBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Commander loves his Inquisitor, who in turn only loves Solas. He was willing to be the silent corner of a torturous love triangle, until Samira Lyanna Blackmyre came to Skyhold - a beautiful travelling troubadour, of great passion and elegance. </p><p>Cullen had known many women warriors, deadly assassins, powerful mages – but not a lot of *artists*. </p><p>(Story interspersed with total smut. I wanted to give Cullen a break from the Inquisitor. This was supposed to be a shorter piece but Maker's balls, some things have a way of burrowing down inside of you and then you have to *purge* it out of you.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The traveling troubadour Samira Blackmyre was tired of singing in this dirty pub in the stinking Hinterlands. Fights broke out almost every night at the Greaves and Gauntlets, the tips were atrocious, the customers too drunk, too broken to hear her pretty songs. Thinking about all the rotten turns of events that landed her in this backwater made Sam’s head pound with a pain that could only be treated with quite a bit of drink.  
  
What she really wanted was a posh and steady job, in the form of a rich, handsome patron who wanted to pay for her charming voice and also keep her warm at night. Her daydreams were broken by a snarl a few tables down: “And what the fuck does that bloody mean, mate?” Wonderful, another bar brawl, vicious Templars at it again. Sam stopped strumming her lute and took shelter as chairs and mugs and swears were thrown about.  
Samira put her arm around the old woman behind the bar and the two of them cowered behind a few casks of brandy.

“Get down, Marlene, I’ve got a feeling this is going to be a bad one.”  
“I can’t take this anymore, Sammy. I might as well abandon this place and go live in the hills.”

The two women peeked over the edge of the bar – it looked like one mage versus seven very drunk Chantry deserters. The threatened mage held a spinning ball of fire between his hands, his back against the wall. “You come any closer and I’ll take this entire place down with me.”  
  
Samira swallowed when she realized magic was now elevating this standard skirmish into something much more destructive. Marlene mumbled, bitter and lost, “Whatever happened to a little law and order in this country?”  
  
Her question was answered by a swift kick that blew the door of the bar right off its hinges. A huge Qunari warrior bent down to step into the pub, silencing the melee, especially when he drew one massive arm toward the handle of the great axe at his back. He was followed by a male elf, serious and taciturn and leaning on his staff, and a red-headed dwarf with a permanent smirk on his face, armed with a crossbow.  
  
The Qunari spoke, voice deep but teasing. “What’s going on in here, friends? Looks like you’ve already done quite a number on this place.”  
  
Before anyone could answer – and they couldn’t – the horned mercenary was just that intimidating, a presence entered the room that made the air crackle with anticipation. Samira’s eyes widened as she heard Marlene gasp – “It’s her, the one they have been talking about all over bloody Thedas – the Herald of Andraste.”  
  
Samira had heard about Naya Lavellan’s miraculous deeds, and tales of her beauty and valor proceeded her too. The tips of her elegant ears poked out from her silver locks, cut through with wild streaks of improbable violet and sky blue. She was small, but a light shone out of her that made her bigger than she appeared. Her battlemage armor was stamped with the flaming eye of the Inquisition and she wielded a gnarled staff taller than her – currently aimed at the man with the fire in his hands.  
  
“I order you to stand down and leave this place in peace – or pieces, if need be.” Samira smiled at Naya’s bit of wordplay, but the men she was threatening didn’t find it funny. There was a war cry and then the fight broke loose. The Herald and her three friends made very short work of the mage and templars – Samira could only take tiny glimpses of the brawl from behind the bar, hearing punches thrown, spells whizzing past each other and landing hard, a cross bow being reloaded and re-fired. The next time Sam looked over the edge of the bar the four were sitting down amongst the mess, the beaten men lying around them in little groaning piles. The Herald took a seat at a long table with a painful huff, while her friend called out: “What does a dwarf have to do to get some service around here?”  
  
Marlene and Sam sprung to their feet, thanks pouring out of them. Naya smiled at them with weary kindness. “It really is no trouble, we are cleaning up the Hinterlands and these fools were but a part of it. Is it possible to get something to eat and drink before we move on?”  
  
Marlene darted away faster than Sam had ever seen her move. Sam started pouring the five a round of ales, bringing the mugs to their table in two strong hands.  
  
“Herald, I have but a small favor to ask of you –“  
The sarcastic dwarf interrupted, “They’re calling her Inquisitor now, we’ll have you know.”  
“Varric, be polite, let the girl speak.”  
  
Samira surprised the team with a deep, courtly bow. “Greetings, friends. My name is Samira Blackmyre, I am a troubadour of some renown, having travelled all over Thedas collecting songs and writing a few of my own. It would be my honor and privilege to entertain you as you rest here.”  
  
Her lute had been hanging from a leather strap around her back, but when she reached for it, the Inquisitor winced. “I’m sorry, Mistress Blackmyre, but I am a little too battleworn for lute music at the moment.” Her friends looked at Naya with worry, as she flexed her left hand opened and closed. Sam cleared her throat, and tried again.  
  
“Perhaps I can sing you something in Dalish, my lady – and without the lute. I believe I know a little lullaby.”  
Naya’s purple eyes brightened at this, and her elven companion gave her slim hand a squeeze on the table. “Let her sing for you, vhenan.”  
  
Marlene had brought them a few pot pies, a basket of bread rolls and some hot roasted potatoes. The four dug in while Samira readied herself to sing. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes, and began the song an elven slave girl had once taught her in a pub like this, but across a faraway border, many, many leagues away.  
  
**_“Sleep little one, my darling love, rest now,_**  
**_I am beside you, in the light of the moon –“_**  
  
Samira didn’t have to look to know she had brought their meal to a halt. She no longer heard the clank of their cutlery or the loud chewing of the Qunari warrior.  
  
**_“Mythal the mother, will guide and protect you,_**  
**_Close your eyes baby, and hear my sweet tune.”_**  
  
Naya’s tentative voice joined her when she could remember the rest of the words. When Samira opened her eyes again and gazed upon the group, they were all staring at her, the Inquisitor with tears glistening in her eyes. Samira curtsied again, head bowed. “I thank you for the honor of performing for you, Herald of Andraste.”  
  
The elf was speechless, the song must have shook something loose inside of her, thinking of a time and a place long ago before she had to don armor and be a leader. Samira began to worry when the pause went on a touch too long. The bard’s heart sank at the lack of reaction.  
  
“I shall leave you to your meal then.”  
“I’m sorry, please do come back. I haven’t heard that song in ages, it reminded me of my grandmother. You sang it better than she though, and I think she would agree.”  
  
Samira dipped her head again in respect, a hand pressed to her heart, eyes still cast downward – after all, a bard is another member of the help – but Sam was feeling bold, and decided to ask for a job.  
  
“Herald, if I can provide any service to the Inquisition, please ask it of me. Marlene will miss me but she will get on without me, right?”  
“Right!” the old bar owner chimed in from behind a column where she had been eavesdropping.  
  
“Boss, can I offer a suggestion?” The Qunari cocked an eyebrow at Naya.  
“Of course, Iron Bull.”  
His eyes raked over Samira’s curvy frame, lingering over her full cleavage. “The new Herald’s Rest could use a bard. Keeps morale up, also gives the boys and girls a bit of tail to look at every night.”

Varric took a slightly less lascivious look at her next. “The Inquisition already has a resident novelist, but a bard would be good too. Our – your – deeds deserved to be immortalized in song.”  
  
Naya began to smile at the troubadour, but Samira kept her feelings in check as her last friend had not said much. “Solas, what do you think?”  
With a reserved smile the elf looked at Samira. “And why not, my heart. Skyhold could use a songbird.”  
  
With this, Samira swept forward. In a move straight out of one of Varric’s knightly romance novels, she bowed over Naya’s slim hand, not quite bringing her lips to her knuckles.  
  
“My lady, I will sing for you and your people until there is no breath left in my body.”  
  
Samira heard the dwarf remark. “Hey, she’s good. She’s _real good_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Dalish lullaby written by me. Although I couldn't come up with a lot of lines. Poetry is hard, OK!)


	2. Chapter 2

Sam rode in the back of a mule-drawn wagon, sitting on a big trunk that held her other instruments and scant belongings. The Herald and her friends had to stay in the Hinterlands a bit longer but they arranged to have her ride back to Skyhold with a small division of Inquisition soldiers, most of which she had bewitched with her songs and wit within the first hour of their journey. The attention felt good, they were all attractive young men. She knew from past experience that soldiers were usually steady customers, their hardened exteriors often housed soft, romantic hearts. They had all promised she would never have to buy a drink in Skyhold’s tavern so long as they were around.  
  
The cart took a turn in the mountain path and Samira gasped when she laid eyes on the fortress of Skyhold. She took in all the details as they entered the courtyard. There were refugees and wounded being tended to, a garden full of healing herbs and climbing vines. She saw dwarves, elves, mages, templars, common folk, all bound together under the Inquisition. Sam felt safe for the first time in many, many years.  
  
The wagon came to a halt near the barracks, when she heard a deep, authoritative male voice call out to her new soldier friends – a voice she felt drawn to in an instant.  
  
“You lot are late – you should have been back two bloody days ago! You can’t let Garrett stop at every pub between Crestwood and here.”  
“We’re sorry, Commander, we actually crossed paths with the Inquisitor herself. We stopped to help her with clear out some bandits on the King’s Road before coming home.”  
  
The boys started exiting the wagon, and Samira finally laid eyes on the man with the imposing but velvety voice. He was a knight: storybook handsome and very tall, broad of shoulder, strong-jawed, clad in gleaming, polished armor, crowned with a head of thick blonde hair, a dangerous and sexy scar crossing a corner of his lip. Samira exhaled, she had been holding her breath as the two stared at each other. She straightened up under his gaze, dusting herself off, accidentally smearing more dirt across her nose.  
  
Samira realized the driver of the cart was waiting for her. She was about to get up off her trunk and hop down when the four soldiers closest to her wanted to do something chivalrous. Rather than help her down, they picked up the trunk she was sitting on and lifted both her and it off the wagon, placing her down in the soft grass near their Commander. He watched this all with a quirk in the corner of his lips.  
  
“So now I know why you were delayed, you had an unauthorized traveler with you.”  
“It’s not like that, Ser! Lady Lavellan sent Samira with us.”  
  
Samira watched his face change at the mention of the elven woman’s name. His golden brown eyes bored into her. “You – you were with Naya? Was she alright?” Something icy crept through her veins. Samira could read people well, and knew from her lifetime of sad songs that _he was in love with her but she did not love him back._  
  
Sam shoved her sudden, intense attraction to this man to the side as she stood up. She had to make sure she had this gig before getting comfortable anyhow. “Ser, my name is Samira Blackmyre, I am a troubadour and traveler. After she saved my life, I pleased the Herald with a song, and Lady Lavellan promised to get me out of the Hinterlands. I have a letter from her proving this, if need be.”  
  
She curtsied to him and he gave her a little bow in return. “I am Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition forces. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mistress Blackmyre. M-may I see that letter now?”  
  
She pulled the parchment from her vest and handed it to the Commander. She knew what it said already, she had broken the seal and carefully re-affixed it when she was done.  
  
  
_“L – J and C - We came across the charming Samira Blackmyre and her twinkling blue eyes in a rundown little bar in the Hinterlands. We all agreed that she could of some use at Skyhold. Bull believes she can be a morale booster to our troops who congregate in the Herald’s Rest every night – but I’ve been speaking to her. She is also a bright young thing that can contribute to the Inquisition in other ways too. Have a talk with Samira and then settle her in and treat her well please! – Naya Lavellan.”_  
  
  
Samira watched the Commander’s face as he realized the note was short, not addressed to him, and devoid of anything personal. He folded it and gestured toward the big castle’s front door.  
  
“Would you come with me, Mistress Blackmyre? I want to introduce you to Josephine and Leliana, the Inquisition’s diplomat and spymaster. I have a feeling they will want to meet you.”  
“Please Commander, if you will, everyone calls me Sam.”  
  
They headed toward the stone steps, Samira keeping a half-step behind him. They were not equals so she did not assume she could walk in line with him. He led her through an enormous hall where a number of nobles were gathered there, giving Cullen and this new girl curious glances as they headed for the war room. She saw the gilded masks on a few of them and decided to play the melody of a beloved Orlesian drinking song as she followed the Commander.  
  
“A bard! Finally, a little culture in this drafty, forgotten place,” one of foreigners lisped at her back as she passed, leaving a ripple of excitement in her wake.  
  
By the time they made it to the door of the council room, Samira had a bit of a proud look on her face. It didn’t take much to please people, music was a powerful weapon in her hands. Cullen found himself smiling at her too as they paused at the door to the war council.  
  
“You’ll have everyone eating out of your hand soon enough, won’t you.”  
  
Samira felt like she was having a good day, her luck was changing. It was cold here in Skyhold but it was a thousand times better than the last 10 pubs she had to sing in. She took a bold step closer to the Commander before he could push open the door, close enough to smell his armor polish and the clean soap he used that morning. “I only wish to be pleasing, Ser.”  
  
Her soft voice had a musical quality to it, fitting of course as she was a bard. Cullen had been told by many admirers over the years that he had an engaging voice, but he found himself utterly captivated by her smooth tone. Cullen cleared his throat as he opened the door.  
  
For one quick moment he was shocked to realize he hadn’t been thinking of the Inquisitor. It was a strange feeling.  
  
_____   
  
After a short round of introductions to Josephine, the Inquisition’s diplomat and Leliana, their Spymaster, the three council members studied Samira on the other side of the war table.  
  
“Well, Mistress Blackmyre, the Herald made mention of some other skills you might be able to lend us besides your musical talents. Care to fill us in?”  
  
Samira slid her lute along a strap, positioning it on her back, arms crossed now. “I can think of a few things, Sister Leliana. First of all, nobody ever suspects the bard. I can be a carefully placed spy, overhearing the right conversations. If someone needed to have something slipped into their drink – that can easily be done between songs, and it’s even easier if I’m flirting. My years of working in loud venues has made me a pretty good lip reader too – providing the target doesn’t have _extremely attractive lips_.”  
  
Sam seemed to aim this comment at the Commander with a subtle turn of her head. Leliana and Josephine looked at each other out of the sides of their eyes while Cullen cleared his throat for what felt like the fifth time in the presence of this enchanting singer.  
  
“Machinations aside, in a pinch, I can function as a translator and entertain visiting nobles and stuffy diplomats for you, Lady Montilyet. I know many songs from Antiva and Nevarra, more Orlesian party songs than I care to know and have even sang in a few Tevinter brothels for good coin. I know sea chanties and soldier’s songs, Andrastian hymns, songs of love and songs of war. Why it was the pleasure of the right song that lead me to your doorstep.”  
  
She bowed her head and moved on to military affairs. “As for what I could provide to the Commander and his forces, a little entertainment after a long day of training can lighten the heart, especially if your boys and girls are far from their sweethearts. Your friend Iron bull also said the troops could use ‘a bit of tail to look at’ if I remember his precise words?”  
  
Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose while the two other women laughed. “I do wish he’d – just not say three quarters of the things he says.”  
  
Josephine cast a careful eye at her after she finished laughing. “And what is the price for your services?”  
  
“Feed me, ply me with drink, keep a roof over my head, and I am yours – until a better gig comes along. I have been looking for a serious patron for some time and should someone who comes to your court who wishes to take me under his or her wing, I would like the freedom to leave as well.” Leliana laughed at her simple demands.  
  
“You know, I used to be a bard once. I used to ask for something called money for playing my music.”  
  
“I intend on keeping the tips I make at the Herald’s Rest. I’m not totally mental!”  
  
Naya’s advisors looked at each other in accord. Leliana held her hand out for Sam to shake.  
  
“Well met, Mistress Blackmyre. Welcome to Skyhold, and welcome to the Inquisition.”  
  
_____   
  
A housekeeper led Samira to a windowless but cozy room. She would have loved to have a view of the nearby Frostback Mountains but windows are hard to come by in a fortified castle. Samira began to unpack her other musical items– she had a small harp that could be held in the crook of an arm, a wooden flute, a sturdy guitar from Antiva and her most treasured possession, an enchanted metronome. She threw her small stack of clothes into the wardrobe and sat down on the bed to smoke one of her favorite clove cigarettes. Home, she thought. _Home - for now - at least_.  
  
She was pondering taking a quick pre-gig nap when there was a knock at her door. She opened it and found the large figure of Commander Cullen filling her doorframe.  
  
“Commander, may I help you?”  
“I was checking to see if you had settled in fine, and if there was anything you need?”  
“Nothing at all, Ser. There’s no window but this is better than the last 4 places I had to live in. Have you ever had to sleep on a tavern table at night? It’s not fun.”  
  
He begrudged her a small, distracted smile. “I – do hate to bother you since you only arrived but you said you had spent some time with the Herald? You did not have a chance to answer my questions – was she alright? Unhurt? Did she…well, say anything of note?”  
  
Samira leaned against the wall, tapping her ash onto a clay ashtray on the desk nearby.  
  
“She spoke of bandits and mages and Templars and demons and the like. Seemed like standard business to her. She’s awfully pretty, isn’t she, Ser? I’ve never seen anyone with silver and purple hair before. Makes the rest of us as dull as a daisy.”  
  
Cullen couldn’t help himself again, he relaxed in her presence. “I’ve never heard anyone say a daisy was – well, a boring flower. I don’t think they’re that bad.”  
  
“The Inquisitor is an exotic night-blooming forest lily, beckoning you to her in the moonlight. The rest of us regular girls have to settle for being daisies.”  
  
They stood there in silence for a bit, Cullen searching for another piece of small talk so he could bring up Naya again. The bard read his face and spared him the trouble.  
  
“She was fine, Commander. Weary but working hard. She had a healthy appetite and was in good spirits despite everything she had encountered. She was making contact with some healers in the area and was going to head home to Skyhold shortly thereafter -”  
  
Samira took another drag off her cigarette, watching him closely now. “- so I’m sure she will be back in your arms any day now.”  
  
There it was, the crease in his brow she knew would appear.  
  
“She does not – go near my arms at all, Mistress Blackmyre.”  
“I am sorry, Ser, I misread your – level of interest. Although it does make sense, she was awfully cozy with her Elven friend – the long-winded one with lots of dry stories. What was his name again? Solas.”  
  
At this name he turned on his boot heel and stormed down the hallway.  
  
_Fool_ , she thought to herself. _Handsome fool, she will never love you back._  
  
_____   
  
Samira got ready for her first night as Skyhold’s new star attraction. She put on her dark blue velvet gown, the one that showed off her smooth brown shoulders. She braided her hair and twined it about so it laid in a big knot right at the nape of her neck. She wore no jewelry, for a musician of her caliber did not require too many adornments, she only needed her voice.  
  
Samira showed up early, knowing everyone would still be eating dinner. Samira met Cabot, the no-nonsense bartender of the Herald’s Rest.  
  
“Nice to meet you, girly, everyone’s already told me we’ll get along just fine. I only have one request – keep the sea chanties to a bloody minimum? I used to own a bar in Cumberland, a trading port. I have heard every damn sailor song under the sun and I hate them all with a burning passion.”  
  
Samira threw her head back and laughed. The two shared a shot of whiskey and then she took her place in the middle of the room. Tonight she chose her lute and her magical metronome as her only accompaniments.  
  
The bar grew more crowded after dinner. Samira began to tune her lute as the pub filled up, people now waiting around the railing on the second floor. And then she heard that voice – his voice. Cullen and some of his captains had arrived, to cheers of approval from the soldiery.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the leonine general sit down at a corner of the bar, giving him an unobstructed view of her. She looked up at him and was pleased to see him looking back at her. He was out of his armor, in a simple white linen tunic with the sleeves rolled up. Samira couldn’t help but notice the outline of his defined biceps, and through the tunic’s neck she could see more of his hard, smooth muscle.  
  
_Concentrate, Samira. By the gods, you are no green girl. Business first, please._  
  
“Alright Skyhold, I shall begin. My name is Samira Lyanna Blackmyre and I know every bleedin’ song that’s ever been sung in Thedas. Does anyone have any requests?”  
  
Voices shouted out all manner of songs, speaking over each other. She heard one called out more than a few times, so she chose it. “She of the Highwayman Repents it is then!”  
  
She set the little metronome on a bar stool in front of her – it looked like a piece of white quartz, balanced with some kind of magic on top of a black obsidian cube.  
  
“What’s that, Sam?” a voice shouted out from upstairs.  
“You’ll see, give me a moment. You must all be quiet.”  
  
She gave the crystal a wobble and it began to sway side to side. She snapped her fingers – and through magic, it repeated the noise back to her. People in the bar were mystified, there were only whispers and murmurs as she continued. She snapped a few times in a row, followed by a clap. The device repeated the percussion string back to her – and the looped it, into a rhythm. Snap- snap, snap clap. Snap – snap, snap clap. It was like having a drummer with her who never spoke back and always wanted to play what she wanted to play. She took a deep breath, and began singing the old folk song.  
  
But when she got to this phrase, she looked right at Commander Cullen: “ _Fellow soldier, hold thy voice, hold it if you may. Fallow shoulders show my choice, I am in your sway_.”  
  
He flushed under her careful gaze but did not look away. She continued, and people joined in with her for the last verse: “ _For no more will I prattle, And no more will I pray. Hear you must the rattle, As life will fly away_.”  
  
The crowd broke into uproarious applause. Samira raised a modest hand up, begging them to tone it down. “Come now, I’ve only sang one song. Maybe it’s the only one I know!”  
  
Men clamored at the bar to buy her a glass of wine. Three glasses made their way to the small table at her side and she chose one. She raised it to her lips – but paused – making a small toast in the direction of the Commander. Cullen found himself bringing his glass to his lips too, returning her gesture.  
  
She sang until past midnight, late for the troops that had to be up at sunrise. A hat was passed around for her and she found it heavy with coin. More than one persistent soldier had pressed her to allow him to walk her to her door, but Sera, the mouthy elf girl who lived in the tavern shooed them away.  
  
“Get lost, creeps, I’m going to walk her back to her room every night so none of you get the wrong sick idea, yeah?”  
  
Sera followed her to her corner of the fortress, eating a handpie she had stolen somewhere. In between messy bites, she asked, “So what’s your deal, Sam?”  
“I didn’t want to sing in a pub that smelled of sick anymore, so I hitched a ride here.”  
“Makes sense to me. Skyhold’s pretty nice, when the stick-up-the-arses aren’t arsing it up that is.”  
“I think I met all the stick-up-the-arses earlier today - they could be worse you know.”  
“Yeah, no, not really. But I saw one of them in particular keeping an eye on you, Sammy. Very strange because everyone ‘round here knows he’s stuck on Quizzie but she won’t give him a second glance.”  
Sam said nothing, just soaking in the information.  
  
“Shame really, he is wound tighter than your lute. If she continues to deny him, he might just SNAP in front of all of us. Alright love, here you are.”  
  
Sera gave her a jaunty wave as she continued back down the hallway. Sam shut the door, leaning against it. She had barely been here a day and she had found herself thinking of that broken-hearted man more than once. She shouldn’t try to pursue him. There were many good-looking men amongst the Inquisition, she had seen more than a handful of them in that tavern tonight. Samira was determined to not dwell on Cullen Rutherford any longer than she already had.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Samira’s voice and her beauty were the talk of Skyhold. The Commander heard her name on the lips of his soldiers more than once during their drills and sparring, teasing each other about who could possibly love her more and what they could do to earn her attention. Cullen had looked for her during the communal breakfast but figured she was sleeping in after her night’s work. To his surprise he found her at lunchtime in the soldiers’ galley, waiting in line with his infantrymen, archers and lieutenants.

“Mistress Blackmyre, may I have a word with you?”

She held her empty lunch tray to her chest as he took her aside from the line.

“You don’t have to eat in here, you should be dining with Naya’s friends and advisors in the great hall, I’m sure she would insist upon it if she were here.”

“Nonsense, Ser. I’ll be fine. This is my audience every night, so why would I shun them during the day?”  
“They can be a rough crowd, you know.”  
“I have sang in countless dirty taverns all over this country. These are very well-mannered soldiers compared to some others I have met. Your cause gives everyone a touch of nobility, Ser.”

Samira bowed her head at him again and something flared up inside of him, a heat he did not know was there.

“ _Please_ stop doing that.”  
“Stop what, Ser?”  
“Stop bowing and curtsying, calling me _Ser_. You are not one of my troops, you needn’t - be so deferential with me.”  
“I needn’t?”  
  
She tilted her head to look at him and he had a chance to study her heart-shaped face, her elegant high cheekbones, and her smooth, brown skin making her blue eyes seem even bluer. Samira kept her midnight black hair braided behind her as always, but a wild tendril or two had slipped loose. Most tempting of all, she had a delicate beauty mark at the right corner of her plush, soft lips.

“Commander, are you alright? Perhaps you should have a bite to eat?”

There was no nice way to tell her this – his lyrium withdrawals were making him hard at the most inopportune times. Sometimes all he had to do was think about the bare, ivory shoulder of his beloved Inquisitor for him to want to pleasure himself alone in his office. Now faced with the sweetly seductive visage of Skyhold’s new bard, he made a quick escape without saying much more.

Sam rejoined the line, talking to a dashing archer almost 10 years her junior. “How odd. The Commander asked that I look at him and then he just ran off when I did.”

The archer put a piece of crusty bread on her tray, followed by a little dish with butter on it. He kept heaping food in front of her, trying to please her. “Who knows, Sam. We all respect the Commander but he really needs to relax.”

___

The next fortnight at Skyhold passed easily, it was one of the best steady gigs Sam ever had. Nobody got grabby with her, bar fights were rare and easily settled. The Inquisition was a united group, there was little griping between the ranks and lots of affection mixed in with the discipline. She declared that Friday nights would be for dancing, and accompanied by her little magical metronome, she played lively songs for the happy couples. The world was falling to pieces around them but inside the Herald’s Rest everyone was relaxed and content and she was proud to be a part of that.

Sam grew to know and love some of the Herald’s other companions. She came to Enchanter Vivienne’s quarters to sing for her a few sad Orlesian songs while she sat with her eyes closed on a velvet armchair, her thoughts far away from the Inquisition. The strange spirit boy Cole often told her when someone was particularly aching for a song, and she would always find a way to work it into her set to bring some comfort to a suffering Skyhold soldier or citizen. Blackwall almost swooned when she played her guitar from Antivan, especially those flamenco songs of pride and passion. Sera continued to be her escort every night, drilling her about the places she’d been and coming up with new ways to insult the more prudish members of the Inquisition.

Samira preferred to spend most of her free time with Dorian, who was delighted to finally have someone around he considered stylish and sassy enough to be his best friend, and it didn’t hurt that she at least knew so many bad words in Tevene.

“I’ve been so lonely down here with these Southerners, darling,” he sighed one afternoon as they sat in the library, eating strawberries, drinking pink wine and lounging around on his big plush settee.

“You don’t even know where I’m from, Dorian. Maybe I’m an Avvar barbarian queen who escaped from an unwanted marriage.”

“I should think not, you don’t have hair on your teeth.” She threw a strawberry stem at him, laughing and coughing on the wine.

“Dorian, you’d be the best patron a girl could have. Let’s go home to Tevinter and you can pay me to hang out with you and laugh at all your jokes. I’ll sing whatever you want and rub your feet when you ask nicely.”

She cuddled up to him, blinking at him in a display of faux-seduction.

“You stupid woman, I can get all of that from you here and not have to pay!”

She punched him on the bicep hard and the two began wrestling and giggling with each other. “Why do you have to like _boys,_ why must you be so difficult!”

Someone coughed and Sam and Dorian looked up to find the Commander nearby, holding a few reports in his hands. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m sorry.”

Dorian pushed Sam off him in surprise, dumping her on the floor by accident, where she landed with a thud. Cullen took two easy steps forward and held out a hand to pull Sam to her feet. Dorian raised an eyebrow at this, sipping his wine.

“Thank you Commander.”

Cullen gave her a small smile and continued on his way up the stairs to Leliana. She sat down on the couch next to Dorian, wriggling under his arm again.

“Now. What was that all of that about do you think?”  
“We got into trouble for being drunk in the library.”  
“No, I think he fancies you, you silly bint,” Dorian chortled at her.  
“Please. He _pines_ for miss perfect, sunlight shining out of her arse, beautiful forest princess, savior of the bloody world. I’m not being rude, Dorian. I’ve met her. It’s not surprising anyone would be obsessed with the Herald.”

She took another swig of his tasty wine. “Besides, there are plenty of cute foot soldiers to go around. Between you and me, we could work our way through the first division in what – a month? Two weeks? But I know what you’re thinking, Dorian - ”

Cullen heard all of this from around the corner, as he did not go right up to Leliana’s loft after departing from their company. The next thing Samira said stirred his blood more than he expected -

“None of those boys will look like Commander Cullen with all of his armor off.”

He heard their glasses clink together followed by more tipsy giggling. Dorian drawled at her, “Thank you for that image, my dear. I’ll be thinking about it all day.”

Cullen continued with his business with the Spymaster but he wasn’t really listening. Ever since his men lifted the Songbird of Skyhold out of the back of that wagon and placed her before him, he had been – conflicted. The Inquisitor was _his lady_ , he loved her with a devoted and chivalrous chastity, especially after she had made it quite clear that she would lie with no _shem_. But the bard had something else coming off her skin – age and experience, elegance and passion. She could pluck delicate melodies off a harp and also bellow raunchy drinking songs with Bull’s Chargers.

Cullen had known many women warriors, deadly assassins, powerful mages – but not a lot of _artists._

When he was done with Leliana, he passed the two friends in the library again. Dorian was engrossed in a book, twirling an end of his moustache into place, while Samira flipped though her own tome. She looked over the edge of it as he passed, their eyes locked in to each other, amber drawn to blue.

Maybe it was his imagination, but her gaze seemed to tell him: _Forget about her, even for a little bit – can you try?_  


___

A week later in the Herald’s Rest, everyone was in high spirits as Sam led them through some unfamiliar Nevarran folk songs. She was singing about a knight in love with his lord’s beautiful wife when Naya entered the small tavern, followed by Iron Bull, Varric and Solas. She was finally back from her last mission and had been away for a while, judging by the spontaneous applause, a few of the Skyhold smallfolk even knelt before her as she passed. Sam stopped playing her song, giving up. It was the first time in the two weeks Sam was not the center of attention but she took the loss with grace - and only a tiny bit of annoyance.

Naya spoke, her Dalish accent giving her words their own musical quality. “Forgive me for interrupting our Songbird, please do continue, my Samira.”

Samira dipped into one of her pretty bows before the Herald. “Inquisitor, your people welcome you back and want to hear from you, I’m sure they’re done with my songs for the night.”

Someone from the rafters disagreed, “Not bloody true, keep singing, luv.” A few other brave souls echoed his sentiments.

“Perhaps the Herald would like to pick the next song.”

A spot was cleared for her right in front of the bard. Sam took a tentative glance toward the end of the bar where Cullen liked to sit. The man was staring at the back of the Herald’s head as though his life depended on it. Sam felt her stomach drop. She took an epic swig of brandy as everyone waited for the Herald to speak.

“The Dalish lullaby again, Sam, if it pleases you. It gives me great comfort. But alone, like you did the first time.”

Sam licked her lips. Singing unaccompanied before this many people was not her specialty.  She finished off her glass of brandy and began to hum at first, as though she were singing to a baby in her arms.

She eased into the first verse, then crooned the chorus – _under the light of the moon, dear child, beneath the tallest trees,_ and adapted the second verse to fit the Herald – _in your lavender eyes, I see a great destiny._ When she was done, the tavern was deathly quiet – until the Herald’s applause broke the silence and everyone joined her. Solas even gave her a small nod of his approval.

For the rest of the night Sam did not sing, only strummed her lute as background noise as everyone was too excited the Herald was back. She watched the Commander hovering at the edge of the circle of her admirers. Samira accepted a glass of wine from one of Cullen’s drunk captains and drained it quickly, pressing him to get her another one.

Sam watched as Cullen managed to make it through the crowd, closer to her elbow. Their exchange was pleasant, but undercut with a businesslike demeanor. His eyes were full of longing and not very well hidden lust, but she only looked at him like a trusted advisor.

Everyone was drinking hard that night, the Inquisitor’s return inspired people to be jubilant, they were simply glad she wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere on the Storm Coast. Samira lost track of Cullen as she had more than a few slurred conversations with men who wanted to tumble her in a dark corner of their barracks. By the end of the night there were more than a handful of passed out people in the tavern as Sam tiptoed around, helping Cabot by collecting empty glasses and ale mugs. She placed her lute in its case and slid the metronome into its compartment, hiccupping to herself, humming a new melody she had been working on.

As Cabot closed up the pub for the night, Sam was almost cross-eyed from all the wine and brandy and whiskey that had been pressed into her hands. Sera was missing, her usual escort to her room, probably also intoxicated and causing trouble elsewhere. The cold air in the courtyard woke her up a bit as she headed to her windowless room.

She looked up at Cullen’s office and quarters, in one of Skyhold’s towers. Bloody hell, he had windows, she could see candlelight glowing from one of them. Perhaps he was still awake and torturing himself over the Herald’s lack of passion for him.  
  
Maybe she should just check on him, maybe…maybe he was as drunk as she was.

  
___

Cullen couldn’t find a glass. He had been drinking right out of the bottle of whiskey since he stumbled back to his room, rebuffed by the Inquisitor - always rebuffed by her. She had a barrier around her heart and the only man who could tear it down was Solas, with that voice that could put a rage demon to sleep. Cullen didn’t understand, and he never would. He knew Solas and Naya were of another world but he still refused to take the fact to heart. He had the bottle to his lips again when there was a shy knock at the door, so shy he wasn’t sure it was real at first until there was another round of tapping.

“It’s open.”  
  
The door creaked open and Samira was standing on the other side, shivering, clutching her lute case.

“I’m sorry, I – never mind, I should not have come, excuse me.”  
With a quick deferential dip she turned and started heading down the wrong walkway. He stood up from behind his desk and called out to her – “No, please –don’t go that way. If you insist on going, and you don’t have to go – that’s the way to Solas’s quarters. I would not want you to – stumble into a moment of intimacy between - the two of them.”

With these bitter words he sat back down again. The bard turned back around, stepping into his office, shutting the door behind her. “I’m only coming in because it’s so cold. And because I’m a daft woman, as Dorian would say.”

She stood in the doorway for a while, trying to formulate her plan of attack. She didn’t want to spook the poor man, after all. With a wince she realized she should have figured this out before she –

“Drink?” Cullen held out the bottle to her with a soused smirk. Sam crossed the room, putting the lute case down, and took the bottle from him.

“Cheers.” She took a swig of his liquor and promptly began coughing, eye watering. Cullen threw his head back and laughed – making a man this handsome laugh made her feel invincible.

“It’s not funny, nor is it healthy, to drink anything that tastes like that.” She passed the bottle back to him, now sliding into the chair in front of his desk. She watched him take a very big slug.

“You’re going to DIE if you keep this up.”  
“Well, I say we finish it, why not.”

Samira measured the inch or two left in the bottle with her eyes. “Don’t you have to be up at dawn?”  
He slid the bottle back across the desk at her. “I find it hard to sleep. This helps.”

She paused before bringing it to her lips again. “Does this have something to do with the Inquisitor barging into my set holding her elfy boyfriend’s hand?”

A storm was brewing in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She decided to take a chance, egg him on further. She took a generous hit of the whiskey before speaking again. “I have often wondered, what makes a man long for something he can never have? Would make a good song, that. I should write it down.” Sam pushed the knife in – hard. “Do you think she’d know it was about you and her though? I wouldn’t want the lovely Inquisitor to be cross with me.”

In a flash he was around the desk, leaning over her with a snarl, hands on the armrests of her chair.

“Stop. Talking about _her_. _You_ don’t deserve to _talk_ about _her_. You don’t deserve to _think_ about _her_. You’re just a _whore_ with a _lute_ who has fumbled her way onto our doorstop with the express intent of opening her legs to every man in the barracks.”

Samira slapped him hard, jerking his head to the left. He took a breath and realized what he had said.

“Mistress Blackmyre, please, – I apologize.”  
  
Before he could pull away in penitence, her mouth was on his, one hand on the back of his neck, hanging onto him, taking what she wanted. Samira pushed her tongue against his, tasting the liquor they had been sharing, running her other hand through his hair. _Come on, kiss me back, you idiot._

As if responding to her silent command, Cullen’s mouth came to life and he lifted her up out of the chair, a hand under each knee. Sam wrapped her legs around him as he took a few steps toward the bookcase and pushed her back against the dry military tomes – and with a roll of his hips, he made her groan.

“Music to my ears.”

Despite his teasing comment, Samira knew none of this was really about her, it was all about what he couldn’t do to the Inquisitor. A small corner of Samira’s mind told her this was a bad idea but her body didn’t care. He kept her pinned to the bookcase while he slid the arms of her gown down, kissing and biting her shoulders, leaving marks that would be there in the morning.

“Please don’t do that – they’ll show when I’m singing tomorrow night.”

He sucked and bit on her neck, leaving an even darker mark. His voice was low and seductive against her ear. “Let them wonder who bedded the bard first.”

He pulled her sleeves down even farther and his eyes registered his surprise when he discovered she wore no band under her gown and her full breasts were revealed to him. “Andraste’s tits,” he swore to himself.

“Actually, they’re mine, Commander.”

He didn’t have time to laugh, his mouth had already drawn one of her taut brown nipples into his mouth, circling it slowly, making groan. He moved on to her other breast, her hands twining through his hair as she hummed her approval. Then something snapped inside of him – he pulled her fingers out of his hair and pinned her wrists to the bookcase above her, hard, and strong enough to only need one hand to hold them both there.

“You’re a distracting woman. You’ve led me astray.”  
“Be rough with me, Ser. _She_ would not like it that way. _She’d_ want pretty Dalish words you can’t pronounce and meek kisses that bore you, but she doesn’t desire you like _I do._ ”

He crashed his mouth against hers, biting her bottom lip without mercy, tasting a bit of her blood there, then rasping his cheek against her jawline, scraping her soft skin with his stubble. Sam began to squirm against him, trying to pull her wrists away from his iron grip. She ground herself against the firm erection in his pants, being aggressive, insistent, demanding. The sensation was too much, he suddenly let her hands go and she unwrapped her legs around from around him, sliding to the floor. He towered over her, eyes fiery and lost in lust, as he took her simple velvet dress in both hands and tore it in two with one quick motion. She gasped in shock, and the sound aroused him even more, as he took in the sight of her lithe, tan body before him.

She was only in her smalls now – and, _Maker’s breath_ \- _they were little, black, lacy ones._

Cullen had never seen such a delicate piece of clothing in all of his experience with the opposite sex. He forgot to play rough for a moment, taking a sultry step closer to her, hooking two fingers into the straps at her hip bones. He leaned into her, not kissing, just breathing near her mouth, as he slowly peeled the two sheer triangles down her body, and following their path, getting down on his knees before her. Sam stepped out of the underwear and placed one foot on his shoulder, letting him get a good look at how wet she was.

Cullen wobbled on his knees, and for a split second Sam was worried the man was too drunk and about to pass out right before they got to the good part. “Commander, are you unwell?”

He laughed, almost to himself. “I’m sorry, I’m a little – overwhelmed. It’s been too long since a beautiful woman _showed me her cunt.”_

“Well then, you shouldn’t keep me or my cunt waiting.”

He licked his lips in anticipation, grabbing her ass roughly, wanting to bruise her again. He gave her one last devilish smile before boldly opening her folds with his thumbs, licking a firm circle right around her swollen clit.

Samira shuddered and cried out, her hands now gripping the bookcase behind her. She didn’t expect him to be so good at this, she gushed into his mouth as his tongue continued its circling, flicking her hot center incessantly, never giving her a break, making her pant and roll her eyes back in her head. She began chanting with every exhale, “please, please, please, Maker yes”, hooking her knee over his shoulder now, pulling him as close to her as possible. She was practically grinding on his face now, her eyes lidded and heavy – now she was the one to feel like she was about to faint. Cullen was bringing her closer and closer to the edge and she could not remember the last time she felt this wanton. He had her in a state, she rubbed her own breasts, vainly wishing he could pay attention to every part of her body.

Then suddenly Cullen’s mouth was gone and he was on his feet again before her. He grabbed her hair at the nape and yanked, pulling her head back so he could claim her mouth roughly and taste herself on his lips. He stopped the kiss to smirk at Samira, “Why don’t you write a song about _that,_ Blackmyre. _”_  
  
Cullen was being too sexy, too charming, Samira thought she’d be in charge of all of this but she found herself surrendering to his taste, his touch, his mouth.  
  
“Take me, Ser. I am yours tonight.”

Cullen yanked his tunic off, revealing a body made lean and hard by war and turmoil. He swore at the tangled laces on his leathers as he struggled to get them off. Samira stopped his hands. “Let me help. But first – let me look at you.”

She ghosted her fingers up his arms, giving his biceps a squeeze before caressing his shoulders. Her fingers skimmed his lats, his pecs, cascaded down the ripple of his formidable abs, traced his sharp obliques and then landed on those stubborn laces. She undid them quickly and pulled his pants down, freeing his magnificent cock, thicker than she expected it to be. She took him in hand and found his manhood was hot and throbbing.

She gave him a few exploratory pumps, watching his face. He dropped his head back against the bookshelf.

“Samira, please. I don’t know how I can hold on much longer – “

She made it worse for him. She dropped to her knees and sucked the head of his manhood into her talented mouth and then swallowed as much of it as she could. When she withdrew, she swiped the bottom of his head with the flat of her tongue – ending with another swirl around the head. She dipped back down on him, making loud, slurping, sucking noises, trying to drive him as crazy as he did to her. She looked up during her work and noticed Cullen was mumbling something to himself in a frantic whisper.

“Ser – are you – saying the Chant of Light?”  
“Woman, if I do not have something to distract me I going to – explode.”  
“Not without me, you won’t.”

He pulled her away from his cock, to her feet, turning her around and bending her forward, making her place her palms flat against the tomes in his bookcase. He swept two calloused hands down her spine, making her shiver. She groaned when he rubbed the head of his staff against her heat, dipping it into her wetness but not pushing in, then removing it to rub against the sensitive pleasure center.

“Stop toying with me, Commander. Please.”

The plaintive note in her voice urged him on, and he slid into her, inch by torturous inch, their groans harmonizing together, until he was hilt deep and she quivered around him. Sam glanced at one of the books under her hands, “Siege Procedures in Modern Warfare” and smiled to herself as Cullen began to rock in and out of her, working up a good rhythm. Their moans filled the air, joined by the erotic slap of his skin against hers. Sweat was rolling off both of them now, they were heating up the entire tower with their hungry rutting.

“Ser, you’re going to make me come –“  
He didn’t stop his frantic thrusts, barely choking out the next words. “Maker’s breath, Sam, stop - calling – me - _Ser_.”  
  
She was tightening around him, gasping, almost hyperventilating from the pleasure. She let two words slip from her: “Cullen, please.”

He threw his head back, coming hard, releasing all his frustration into her as her sheath pulsed around him in response. She whimpered, cheek pressed against the bookcase, she hadn’t been taken that well in quite some time. With a satisfied sound, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down onto the rug beneath them. The two lovers promptly passed out in a tangle of arms and legs, the liquor catching up with the lust.


	4. Chapter 4

When Cullen awoke in a cramped corner of his office, Samira was gone, her lute case also missing, telltale lipstick stains on the rim of his bottle of whiskey serving as a sensual reminder of her presence.

His head was throbbing in pain, he had fallen asleep under Samira’s ruined velvet dress on the floor beside his desk. He sat up, groaning, hoping the doors were locked because all it would take is one runner to see him lying on the floor covered in a torn dress to kick off rumors that the Commander liked to wear _ladies’ things_ at night.

A pounding knock at the door startled him more awake. He was _very_ glad Samira had locked that door behind her during her discreet escape.

“What the bloody hell is it?”  
“Commander Cullen, you’re late to your war council meeting. They’re beginning to worry about you.”  
  
He pulled himself to his feet, feeling dizzy and nauseated. “Oh for fuck’s sake…  
“What was that Ser? Are you alright? Should I send for a healer?”  
“No, tell them I’m on my way. Go, quickly.”

Cullen splashed cold water on his face, wiping the traces of Sam’s lipstick off his lips and his ear, trying to fix his unruly hair. He threw on a clean tunic and leathers, and began putting on his armor, wishing he didn’t have to put _any_ of it on. What he really wanted was go up to his loft and do something about the morning erection he had, inspired by the previous night’s activities – but the Inquisitor was waiting for him. His devotion to her transcended his bodily needs.

His hasty toilette finished, Cullen crossed the busy courtyard, every sound amplified by his raging hangover. He made his way to the war room, swinging open the door, steeling himself to be _normal and not about to lose it all over his own boots_ when he came face to face with the smiling Samira, who was standing next to Leliana. Josie and the Inquisitor were reading a few letters at their end of the table. All four women looked up at him with varying degrees of concern – Samira being the least worried – and also, incredibly, not hung over at all.

Leliana was the first one to tease, “Most of Skyhold is in the same condition as you this morning, Commander. No need to be sheepish about it.”  
“I wasn’t being sheepish about it, Leliana, I hadn’t even said anything yet!”  
  
Josie and Naya began talking at the same time, arguing about what was the best cure for a hangover, Leliana contradicting them both. Cullen closed his eyes against the noise for a moment and when he opened them, he saw Samira crossing to a table in the corner where they kept a few standard refreshments for long meetings. She poured a shot of whiskey into a small glass and glided around the table. As she grew closer, he saw the bites and bruises he had left on her neck the night before and when he accepted the small glass from her, his hands were shaking just remembering their – primal coupling, how she looked pressed up against his bookcase.

“Hair of the dog, Commander. It’s the only thing that will at least make you feel better.”

He tilted his head back to down the drink - revealing a bite or two _Samira_ had left on him. The bard saw the Spymaster and Diplomat look right at each other with quick and devious smiles while the Inquisitor narrowed her eyes in curiosity. Samira drew her own collar up, hoping they hadn’t seen the _matching marks_ on her neck.

“Thank you, I feel much better – better enough to inquire why Mistress Blackmyre has joined us in the war room this morning.”

The Inquisitor clapped her hands together in a rare moment of girlish glee. “Sammy is going to help us in Orlais! She’s going to try to find out anything she can about who is conspiring against Empress Celene before we go to the peace talks at the Winter Palace. It’s important reconnaissance and she is well connected in a few of these circles already.”

“Yes, my Orlesian is quite good, and I know all the tavern and public house owners in Val Royeaux. Leliana will give me the targets and I’ll do the rest.”

Cullen scowled at her confidence and began firing questions at her.

“What if you are discovered?”  
“I won’t be, I’m a good actress.”  
  
“What if you have to defend yourself?” Samira rolled her eyes and pulled a sharp dagger from her belt, tucked at the small of her back.  
  
“What if you’re tortured into giving up Inquisition secrets?”  
“And what exactly do I know at this point? That you own a very big map on a table? The most interesting thing I know is how to sneak across the courtyard after midnight and not bump into the night’s watch.” Her face was professional but there was a twinkle in her eye as she looked at him.  
  
“What if they want to know the location of Skyhold?”  
“I’ll tell them – the Hissing Wastes.”  
  
“What if –“

Leliana had enough. “Commander, stop second guessing the girl. Let her prove herself to us. I’ve given her some coin for bribes – “

“And a few new dresses.” Cullen closed his eyes as she said this, hoping she wasn’t smirking at him now.

Josie put an end to the discussion. “That settles it, Samira leaves tomorrow and will return in a fortnight with anything she has learned.”

The Inquisitor pulled Sam into her pale arms in an impulsive, sweet gesture. “Do be careful, my pretty songbird. I feel responsible for you now. Fly home to us quickly.”

When Naya was done, Samira dipped into bow and left the room with a slight flourish of the wool cape around her shoulders.

After the door closed, Josie spoke up. “Oh, Cullen – I forgot, Samira found your cloak in the great hall, it must have slipped off the back of your chair last night at dinner. She left it here for you.”

Josie handed it to him with only a touch of suspicion in her face. He slipped it on over his armor and he now knew what she was wearing when she had to cross through the courtyard last night.

The Inquisitor squinted at him with some distaste. “I do wish you’d be more supportive, you were a little insulting toward Sam.”

Cullen hated when her beautiful purple eyes flashed at him in anger. “Inquisitor, do you want me to apologize?”

Josie and Leliana exchanged one of their dry looks again, rather used to seeing the Commander grovel like this in front of the Dalish woman.

“I do wish it, and you will do so before she leaves.”

He tried to bow over one of her graceful, ivory hands but she yanked it away from him with cruelty. With a few mumbled excuses he exited the war room, seeking the Bard’s forgiveness.

_ _ _

Cullen looked for her in the soldiers’ mess hall, but her pack of favorites had not seen her today. Oswyn, one of the Inquisition’s best archery sharpshooters, gave Cullen a hopeful look.

“Ser, does she ever say anything about me?”  
  
One of the other suitors scoffed at his question. “Os, firstly, don’t talk to the Commander about personal matters, do you think he has the time to care? Secondly, why in the _Void_ would she _ever_ ask after the likes of you?”

Cullen left before he could hear more of their jealous bickering, heading through the great hall, where he passed Varric sitting by the fire.

“Hey Curly, you want to hear something strange? I saw Birdie nosing around the great hall real early this morning – and she was carrying your cloak. What’s that about, do you think?”

The Commander gave him an almost imperceptible shake of the head as he scurried away – _looking awfully suspicious,_ the dwarf noted to himself.

Cullen hurried to her quarters in a quiet corner of Skyhold. He knocked on her door and heard the shuffling of papers followed by her sing-song response. “I’m busy! Do come back later!”

He leaned closer in case someone nearby was listening. “Samira, I have come to beg your forgiveness.”

He heard the pop of a cork and then the tinkle of glassware. “Have you now? Did _she_ make you do it?” He rested his still-aching head on the door. “Yes. But, I did want to also apologize of my own volition.”

Cullen heard her light laughter.  “Your own volition? Does that even exist?”

“Please Samira, let me in. And give me another drink, my hangover is still very much with me.”

She finally let him in, revealing she had been packing for her trip for Orlais, sheet music all over her bed. She offered him her only chair and sat on the edge of her table, pouring him a glass of wine. He downed it one go and then looked at her. “How are you not even the least bit sick after last night?”

“Commander, I’ve spent my whole life in bars. I could drink Iron Bull under the table and even he wouldn’t understand what happened to him. Alright, spit it out, where’s the apology?”

“I’m sorry I doubted your skills in front of the other advisors – and the Inquisitor. She thinks very highly of you.”  
“Apology accepted, even though I wish it had been even prettier.”  
“Pretty words are not exactly my specialty.”  
Sam dropped her voice a little. “No, but I am acquainted with – a few of the things are you are very, very good at.”  
  
Cullen smirked to himself but would not meet her eyes. He looked at all the music spread out over her bed. “These are all Orlesian?”

“Yeah, and a lot of them are terrible. Those aristo twats are not exactly my favorite sort of people. But – if while I’m on Inquisition business I meet someone willing to be my patron, then stay in Orlais I will.”

His face did not hide his disapproval of her plan, but he kept eyeing all the scraps of parchment on her bed with their interesting musical notes.

“Play one for me.”  
“Pick one for me.”  
  
He chose one with many, many marks on it. “Really?” She grimaced. “You’re going to hate it.”

She grabbed her harp and launched into the terrible love song, trilling away, batting her lashes at him while hitting the high notes until the staunch Commander was laughing, tears at the corner of his eyes.

“I told you you’d hate it.”  
“What’s the song about?”

“A pretty young girl marrying an ugly old man for his money, but maintaining that he wasn’t so bad because you know – his _thing_ doesn’t work. So she never has to lie with him and she fucks his handsome game keeper instead. Good one. Real crowd pleaser.”’

This only made him laugh harder and she could feel the deep, manly rumble of his mirth all over her body.

“Pick another one, Commander.”

They went on like this for a while, playing things he chose for her, listening to her translations, laughing at her jokes. He lost track of time in her windowless room, just soaking in the pleasure of her company, not having to share her with anyone. _Is this what it would feel like to be her benefactor, her patron?_

He finally ran out of songs to choose, so Sam decided to be bold. “I can play one I’ve written, if you don’t mind.”

Cullen was tipsy again, the Inquisition’s serious general had been drunk two days in a row – he nodded at her and leaned in his chair, balancing on its back legs.

“It doesn’t have words yet, it’s just the melody, but I think you’ll like it.”

She gave him a shy smile and began plucking the sweet notes – a lilting, romantic melody, delicate but seductive until the song came to an end.

“That’s all I have for now.”

Cullen let his chair fall forward, bringing him closer to her in her cramped quarters. Samira saw in his eyes that he wanted what they had the night before, he wanted it again so soon. He took the harp out of her hands and tossed it toward the bed, pulling her into his arms. Her lips was on his in a heartbeat, their tongues meeting, his hand on the back of her neck holding on to her, possessive, full of longing.

And then, suddenly his mouth was gone, she was on her feet, and he had snuffed the candle on the table. Footsteps were coming closer to her door – how did he even hear them as they were wrapped up in each other?

There was a knock at her door and before Samira could answer, Cullen had clapped a gloved hand firmly over her mouth, his stern face telling her to obey him.

“Samira? It’s Naya, are you in?“

He shook his head at her, pressed his hand harder on her mouth. His other hand gripped her arm near the elbow, just as insistent and commanding.

The Inquisitor knocked again, Cullen’s face looked panicked and stricken. Samira could not look at him, and willed herself to not cry.

He was embarrassed to be in her room.  
He did not want to be caught there.  
He would always love the silver-haired queen on the other side of the door.  
  
She was a distraction, a trifle. Sam remembered the angry words he had spoken to her before they had coupled so passionately: she was nothing but a whore with a lute.

Naya slipped a note under her door and left down the hallway, going back the way she came. Cullen waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear before he removed his hand from her mouth.

He tried to be the first one to speak but Samira beat him to it. “Please leave.”  
“Samira, I’m sorry, but –“  
“Leave. I will not come between you and – the woman you love.”

Samira picked up the note the Inquisitor had left and opened the door for Cullen. He departed without looking at her.

She shut the door behind him with a frustrated sigh. All her years of being on the road had trained her to always have a plan of some sort. She decided she would go to Orlais, collect the information they needed to find and finish the mission, since she owed them all that much. Maybe in the time she would be there she could find another gig, another place to sleep. Maybe she should not come back here.

Samira decided to pack two bags, the one she would take with her – and the trunk she would send for once she had settled in Val Royeaux.

She almost forgot to look at the note that had caused all of this turmoil:

_“Samira, can you tear yourself away from all your admirers in Cullen’s ranks and please have dinner with me and my friends in the great hall tonight?  We are feeling selfish, and would love to have you perform only for our company tonight. Do not turn us down please! We also wish to get a good meal in you before you leave on the morrow. Yours - Naya.”_

Samira did not want to see the Commander again before she had to leave, but she could not begrudge the fair leader. She was too good, too kind, too strong. The world needed her to save them all from the chaos.

 _And he deserves her_ , she thought with bitterness, as she began putting her sheet music into one neat pile. _Let him spend the rest of his life pining for her_.

___

Sam put on her last good dress (the one not torn by Cullen in a fit of passion) and let her hair hang freely about her shoulders tonight. She chose her guitar over the lute and the harp – might as well leave them with a lasting impression.

She had attempted to arrive after dinner but when she thought she had arrived late, she had arrived just in time for the first course – and they had saved her a seat, right between Naya and Cullen. She shot Dorian a pout as she was led past him right toward the scowling Commander.

Cullen held her chair out for her. “This is normally my seat,” he said under his breath, only to her.  
Samira composed her face in a fake smile and responded. “I’m sure it is. I guess it would be too much of a stretch for you to somehow sit under her, or right on top of her. You’d make quite the footstool as well.”  
“I do wish you’d attempt civility tonight, Mistress Blackmyre.”  
“Don’t worry, Commander, I shall soon be out of your hair soon enough.”

Her words had a dark sort of finality to them but Cullen turned his attention to discussing training and recruitment with Ser Barris on his other side. They did not speak for the rest of dinner unless he had to pass a dish to her or refill her wine glass.

After dessert and brandy, Naya and her friends and advisors gathered around one of the big roaring fireplaces to hear Samira sing and play. She felt a twinge of regret knowing this could be her last performance for these kind souls but she pushed this feeling aside as she launched into a set of rousing Antivan folk songs, strumming powerfully and with great confidence. Her voice filled the entire hall, even silencing the gossiping nobles in one corner. Josie’s face was flushed with a little too much drink, remembering the land of her youth.

Samira finished one of these flamenco songs and after the applause had died down, she addressed Josie – “Perhaps one day you will dance for us, Ambassador. I know you know how to, I saw your foot tapping away.”

Blackwall’s eyes lit up at this, looking at his lady love, who only blushed. “It’s been a long time since I danced like that – but who knows, perhaps I will dance at the Inquisitor’s wedding, when our war is over.”

At the mention of a possible wedding, Solas and Naya held hands and gazed at each other – while Cullen seethed away, leaning on the mantle on the opposite side of the room. Samira grinned to herself, savoring his bitterness, as she started another song.

A few tunes later, Samira was getting tired and she had to ride early the next morning. Naya pressed her for just one more song. Samira took a drag off her clove cigarette stationed nearby, as she thought about what she could play. “Oh, I’ve got it. It’s not – a fun one, but it’s a good one.”

 _My love, he loves another, he is blind to all my charms_  
_My love prefers another, and he rests within her arms_  
  
_He cannot see me clearly, he only sees her face_  
_He will not see me clearly, he only wants her grace_  
  
_My love, he loves another, I am cast aside, alone_  
_He cannot ever choose me, ny heart shall turn to stone_  
  
_My love, he loves another, much worthier than me_  
_I shall wander in the darkness, he will never hear my plea_

There was an awkward pause after she finished the emotional song and thankfully Dorian had to break it, “No, that’s not a fun one.” Samira put her guitar down and dashed into the mage’s arms as everyone laughed around them. “I was singing it about you, you fool.”

Samira needed to go rest before her ride the next day, so Sera walked her back to her room as was their tradition, but Samira never once turned to look at Cullen’s face in the wake of that song.

But she should have looked. His face was etched with regret as Sera led her away.

___

  
Early the next morning, as the sky was barely dawn-kissed, Samira left Skyhold with her trusty lute and magic metronome in her bag. Master Dennet had readied her horse for her and with an easy kick, she was off, 3 or 4 days steady riding to Val Royeaux. The road through the Frostbacks was so incredibly dull – she had forgotten all about it as she had a lot more company on the way to Skyhold. Just thinking of having to ride back to the castle was enough to set her heart toward the task of finding a way to stay in Orlais rather than return. The long journey did give her some time to think about the songs she had been working on, like adding some words to the pretty tune she had played for the Commander.

She certainly tried to not think about Cullen.

That night she had to make camp near the crossroads that would send her west toward the capital. She lit a fire and ate some dried meat and a crust of bread from her provisions. As she dug around in her saddle bag for something else to sate her, Sam’s hand grazed something unfamiliar in their depths. She pulled it out from under a few other things and gasped. It was a bottle of whiskey. She uncorked it and took a sip. It was the same whiskey she and Cullen had shared two nights ago. The taste swirled down her body, right to her feet.

 _How had he? When had he?_  
She really tried to put it straight in her head, when she spoke to Dennet about a mount and when Cullen could have had a moment to slip her the treat she so sorely needed right now.

She took a bigger gulp and laid back on her bedroll, smoking, looking at the stars. The whiskey made her wish he was with her. Samira fell asleep that night remembering how good Cullen looked down on his knees before her naked body.

The next day as she rode toward Val Royeaux, she realized it was much easier to think about him than it was to _not_ think about him.

___

A fortnight went by when Cullen had been drilling some new recruits when he heard the commotion at the gates of Skyhold. At first he ignored it, watching the farm boys weakly swinging wooden swords and sweating under the pressure – but the sound began to grow. He recognized the voices of some of his more veteran officers so he broke from the military exercise and decided to intervene.

He made his way to Ser Dustin, who was arguing with two other lieutenants. “What in the bloody Void is going on, sers?”

“Commander, there is a woman at the gate claiming to be Samira Blackmyre, but it is not Sam. She keeps insisting she be let in and talk to the Inquisitor.”

Cullen looked through the bars of the gate and saw a mousy, freckle-faced woman with long red hair and green eyes.

“This is definitely not Samira Blackmyre. Do not let her pass.”  
“No, Commander – Cullen! It’s me! I can prove it, get Master Dennet, he will recognize my horse.”

The woman scrambled for something in her bag. “Cullen – the whiskey? Look, did you not put this in my saddlebag before I left for Val Royeaux?”

They were two good clues, but a dark thought hovered in his mind – they both things she could have stolen off – the corpse – of Samira Blackmyre. Cullen’s eyes flashed at her through the gap in the gate.

“You should turn and leave, woman. If we find out you have murdered our treasured bard we will hang you on the morrow.”

The red head whimpered now, on the verge of tears. “Where is the Inquisitor?”  
“That’s none of your business.”  
“Please, get Dorian then – Dorian Pavus! About this tall, silly moustache, in love with half of the Inquisition army? If you can’t find him, how about Vivienne, or Solas?”

Vivienne had returned home to the Orlesian countryside for a visit to her sickly lover. The Inquisitor and Solas were in Emprise de Lion, probably zapping the eyes out of red Templars. Cullen made a quick decision to humor the stranger, sending a soldier to look for Dorian in the library. He refocused on the woman trying to breach the gates of Skyhold.

“Commander, please let me in, I just want this thing off of me!”  
“What thing?”  
“My face. This thing is killing me, I can hardly breathe, I’ve been wearing it for the past 3 days!”

Her words were making less sense and she was getting more hysterical. Dorian finally appeared, not in any hurry whatsoever.

“And pray tell, why did you interrupt my tea time, Commander?”  
  
The red-head pushed a hand through the gate. “Dorian, it’s me, Samira – I had an underground apostate cast ‘incognito’ on me so I could flee my situation in Val Royeaux but these – military arseheads – won’t let me in. It’s really me, I swear, I promise. I won’t come in, but you can come out, please get it off of me, _please_.”

Cullen gave Dorian a look that signaled he was still very much unsure about this situation. Dorian cleared his throat. “If you’re Sam, tell me something only you and I would know.”

The red-head bit her lip and thought about it for a while – and then she said something in Tevene, something in Tevene that made Dorian burst into laughter.

“Raise the portcullis please, and hurry.”

The woman fell to her knees in relief as the gates went up. Dorian did not wait for them to raise very high, he scurried underneath them and dropped down in front of the red-head. Cullen watched him murmur a few strange words and then touch his fingertips to her jawline, testing for something, just below the ears – and then as though pulling a veil from her face, one visage disappeared and Samira was suddenly before them.

She collapsed forward into Dorian’s arms, gasping for air – a cry went up from Cullen’s men at the gates. The Songbird was home. Cullen darted to Dorian’s side.

“Why is she in this condition?”  
“Whoever cast the spell was a little sloppy or in a hurry, she could barely breathe under the mask – and worse yet, you are in danger of simply losing yourself in your new identity.”

Samira’s eyes fluttered open – “Where is the Inquisitor, I must tell her about – “

Cullen lifted her out of Dorian’s arms. Her face fell forward into his fur collar and she moaned in exhaustion. “You must rest first. Naya is not even here right now, and Leliana can wait for your report.”

He carried her across the courtyard toward her room. Her eyes were closing again but he still had a question.

“What did you say to Dorian?”  
She smiled, a little pained. “It’s a bit filthy, I’d rather not say.”  
Cullen’s deep voice was gentle. “I promise you I can handle it.”  
  
“He told me a few weeks ago that Ser Thorn, your captain who works the northern trebuchet, has a cock that veers to the left. So I repeated this fact back to him.”

Cullen _almost_ dropped her in the middle of the courtyard. Samira continued, an endearing little eyebrow raised. “But I ask, did he mean _Ser Thorn’s_ _left_? And not, _you know, your left_ , when you’re facing him?”

The Commander laughed, throwing his head back. The sound made his soldiers in the sparring ring stop to look at him.  He hadn’t laughed in weeks, he realized.

___

When Samira awoke, Cullen, Leliana and Josie were all crammed into her room. She looked around and saw her things had been brought to her room. They were staring at her with great seriousness.

Samira sat up in bed and pointed at her lute case. Cullen handed it to her and she opened it, revealing her instrument and the metronome. She handed both things to Josie, who put them down on the desk, and then lifted up the velvet interior, revealing a secret compartment. Samira passed the rather sizeable report to the Spymaster.

“That’s everything - on everyone – every bloody whisper I heard about how there are at least two separate plots to kill or overthrow the Empress – one from her elven ex-lover Briala and the other from the pissed off Gaspard. But Gaspard is not conspiring on his own, my guess is his sister Florianne is also involved but it is very tricky figuring out who is playing who. I suppose that is for you to find out when you go to the peace talks. ”

Leliana pawed through the report, practically salivating. When she finished with a page, she would pass it to Cullen or Josie, depending on its contents.

“May I share my opinion now?”  
Leliana did not look up from the pages, but gestured at her to continue.

“Don’t throw in with Gaspard. I spent quite some time around him and his associates and they are a nasty lot. Very, very nasty. In fact, I feel I must – disclose something.”

The three advisors looked at her at once. “One of Gaspard’s men, a Comte du Chauveau – he took a liking to me. He wanted to be my patron.”

Sam paused, looking pained again, the words coming slowly.

“The money was right, but – I think he wanted to put me in chains – all of his servants were elven slave girls. I saw the shackles around their ankles, the broken look in their eyes…and then of course - he tried to force himself on me.”

She shuddered. “I fled his villa and he did not take it well. His men were searching Val Royeaux for me. That’s why I was in disguise when I arrived. I am afraid he is still looking for me and that he means to – hurt me - for rejecting him.”

Josie and Leliana shared a look. At times Cullen believed the two had worked together for so long they did not need to speak to each other. Josie searched for Sam’s hand under her blanket. “No one is going to harm you here. We will see to that.”

Leliana’s eyes were icy cold. “If this Chauveau strikes at any member of the Inquisition – we will wipe him from the face of Thedas.”

Sam pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m very sorry, I’m not feeling well again, may I ask – “

Josie straightened the blanket on her bed and began to usher them out of her room. Leliana was the next to leave, she turned around in the doorway to speak one last time. “We appreciate your hard work, Samira. The Inquisitor was right, you are more than just a bard.”

Samira called out to Cullen before he could leave. “Thank you for the bottle, Commander.”

___

A few days later, Cullen was standing on the battlements near his quarters, watching for the Inquisitor. She was due to arrive soon, they had a limited amount of time to prepare for Halamshiral. And, of course, he also missed her, the way she lit up the entire fortress, the sound of her graceful steps as she walked in front of him to the war room, how her purple eyes softened if someone mentioned a kindness they had done to help someone suffering. She may have never given him even a moment of extra affection and yet –

The sound of a match being struck broke his reverie. Samira had snuck up on him while he had been staring at the road. She was trying to light her clove cigarette, but the mountain breeze was making it difficult.

“What’s so interesting out there? You’ve been up here for almost an hour.”  
The wind blew out her match as quickly as she had lit it and she swore under her breath.

“The Inquisitor should be coming back from Emprise de Lion, and we must start preparing for all the Orlesian bollocks we’re going to have to put up with at the Winter Palace. Do you need some help?”

Cullen took a step over and served as her barrier against the wind, cupping his gloved hands around her delicate ones. She finally got her cigarette lit and she looked up at him, now towering over her.

“You must be glad she is returning.”  
“I am.”  
  
“You’d wait here forever for her, wouldn’t you.”  
“I would.”  
  
“And you’re not ashamed to love a woman who doesn’t love you back?”  
“I am not.”

He was gritting his teeth by now. Samira’s level of calm as she grilled him about Naya infuriated him. He certainly did not expect her next question.

“So you’re saying you _don’t_ fancy a shag before she gets back?”  
Cullen had to swallow before speaking. “I never said such a thing.”

Samira put a hand on his breastplate. “Are you sure?”  
“Very sure.”

Before she could speak again, he pushed her backward toward a storage room in one of the towers, pressing her up against the door, grinding against her, with his mouth devouring hers. Sam flicked her cigarette away and fumbled for the doorknob behind her, but it wouldn’t budge. Cullen broke the kiss and moved her aside with authority – giving the door one solid kick, breaking the lock. Samira felt swoony, it was a very sexy move. Once inside the dusty room she flung herself at him.

“Armor. Off. Now.”

She helped him with the buckles and straps, only interrupting the kissing to let a piece of it drop to the floor. His body was revealed to Sam, bit by bit, her hungry fingers caressing every bit of his skin she had access to. As soon as he was naked, he yanked off her tunic and flung her leathers into a corner. He exhaled a jagged, excited breath.

“No smalls at all?”  
“Who has time, Commander?”

She jumped into his arms and he held her up by her ass, lavishing bites and kisses all over her shoulders.

“Your skin tastes so good, Samira, –“ he intoned as he licked her neck, working his way up to her ear, stopping to moan there when she squirmed her hips against his and he could feel how wet she was already. Cullen walked her over to the wall and pressed her back against the stone. She hissed at the cold contact, but the man in front of her was keeping her plenty warm. Now that she was supported against the wall, he dipped his head to suck at her nipples, flicking his tongue against the tender tips, making her groan louder. He teased her until she was overstimulated and whimpering, her fingers kneading his shoulders in a delicious fashion.

He murmured with that honeyed voice of his into her ear. “What do you want, Blackmyre, you have to tell me…”

“On the floor, Ser. I wish to - put you through your paces.”

He released her from the wall and did what she asked, lying down on his own cloak, his cock at full mast, twitching for her. But what she did next surprised him. She oh so slowly lowered her pussy onto his face, knees on either side of his head, and then crawled her hands forward, taking his rigid manhood into her mouth. Cullen moaned into her as she paid careful attention to the head of his cock. Was she humming as she hollowed her cheeks and worked her lips around his shaft? He reached forward to knead at her breasts, making her press her hot womanhood onto him even more.

Samira was blissed out on the taste of him hard in her mouth and the _military precision_ of Cullen’s tongue when she felt him tapping her on the ass with an insistent hand. She dismounted from him and turned around.

“I’m so close, Sam – get on top of me.”  
“As you wish, Commander.”

Samira flung a leg over him and positioned herself over his throbbing erection. She shook her hair out, preening a little, pinching her own nipples for him, as she sunk onto his stiffness with a very satisfied groan. Once he was deep in her, he whispered – “You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” That little voice of reason inside of her spoke again, _he’s probably not thinking of you, why let him use you this way,_ but it was much too late for this kind of talk. She draped herself across his broad chest, pressing her lips to his neck, letting him thrust up into her – but he pushed her back up, insisting, “No, let me look at _you.”_

With these magic words, Samira began to ride him hard, undulating her hips and writhing against his cock. Cullen’s rough hands kneaded her breasts, sometimes slipping down to hold on to her soft ass as she ground down on him in little circles of joy. He slipped his index finger deep into her mouth, bidding her to suck on it, enjoying the sight of her lips around the digit. She removed it from her tongue and pressed it to her swollen clit. He did not have to stroke her for long before Samira shook all over, letting out a long, satisfied moan, falling forward on him. Cullen wrapped his arms around her, pistoning into her until it was his turn too.

She got off of him and laid down next to him, one leg still over his.

“When does she get back?”  
“Maybe later today. Or tomorrow. Maybe not for a few days.”

Samira was too scared to look at his face as she spoke. “Then perhaps we can – spend more time together?”

He was too shy to look at her too. “I would like that.”

Samira’s heart fluttered. “Me too.”  
She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered her, “You already said that.”

The two clandestine lovers put themselves back to together, pulling on their clothes, Cullen putting his armor back on piece by piece. Samira helped him with his breastplate though, giving her a chance to kiss him softly one last time before they parted from the storage room.

Little did they know their retreats were watched from the battlements across the way. Varric and Iron Bull leaned against the stone wall in front of them, watching Cullen rub the back of his neck as he walked in the direction of his office. A beat or two later, a disheveled Samira left the same room, whistling a jaunty tune to herself as she headed the opposite direction, smoothing her hair down.

“Well you don’t say,” Varric said with a smirk.  
Iron Bull chuckled. “Rutherford, you dog. What if the Inquisitor found out?”

Varric scoffed. “As if she’d care. Watch this though, this should be fun.” Varric shouted toward the Commander. “Hey Curly! Nice work!”

Cullen turned crimson red and practically flew back to his office.

___

Word spread throughout the infantry in less than an hour that the Commander _might_ have been caught dallying with the beautiful bard. All of her admirers scorned the gossip, saying there was no way she was parting her tanned thighs for someone as haughty as Cullen Stanton Rutherford. Her suitors decided upon one thing – if the Commander came to hear her sing tonight, and _especially_ if he sat in the best seat in the Herald’s Rest (far left corner of the bar, near the cask of dry sherry), the rumors must be true.

Samira was coasting on a wave of elation after her stolen afternoon with Cullen. She picked one of her new Orlesian dresses for her set that night. She hoped he would be there – if he wasn’t, it meant he was still stuck in the whole _lust first, shame second_ routine. _Tiresome nonsense_ , she thought to herself as she brushed her black tresses until they were gleaming and shiny. _Couldn’t he just keep his face between her legs where it belonged and be happy about it?_ Her rather carnal thought made her blush at herself in the mirror before she grabbed her harp and headed for the pub.

The Commander did not come to see Sam play that night. She hid her disappointment well, drinking the free drinks that came her way, flirting with those who gave her their attention. On the walk back to her room with Sera, Sam took a discreet glance at Cullen’s window. The lights were out. There was always tomorrow, she reassured herself.

Sam’s hopes were dashed, as Lady Lavellan came over the horizon early the next day, and the Commander returned to her side, devoting all his attention to getting them ready for Halamshiral. A week later, Sam was in the crowd watching them prepare to leave, in two comfortable carriages. She stood near the gate, watching Cullen talking to his men, standing on the steps of his carriage, those golden curls lit up in the midday sunshine. He was out of his armor and in a formal officer’s uniform, looking like a dashing prince from one of her sappy ballads.

 _Except this prince was a withholding, stubborn, arsehead_ , she added to herself bitterly as he stepped into the carriage without trying to look for her in the crowd. _To the Void with him_ , she thought as she headed back toward the courtyard.

Sam spent the next fortnight drinking hard at the Herald’s Rest - and not singing a single damn love song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wrote the Samira's sad little song in this chapter.)


	5. Chapter 5

Naya and her advisors and friends came back from the Winter Palace with a major win under their arm, thwarting several plots against Empress Celene and wooing many nobles to their cause. Sam woke up to the sound of much commotion in the hallway outside her room. She took a tentative peek outside her door – Skyhold was transforming from a sleepy fortress to a bustling center of political and military activity. She was about to close the door and crawl under the covers for 4 more hours of beauty sleep when an Inquisition messenger stopped her with a note from Leliana. “War room - now.” Samira shook off a shudder, the Spymaster scared her a little. Best not keep her waiting.

She slipped through the crowd in the main hall and headed for the council room, taking a deep breath before pushing open the door. No Cullen, but the Inquisitor was overjoyed to see her.

“Samira, you should have heard the bards at Empress Celene’s party. What boring songs, and none of them as pretty as you.”

“I am glad to hear you still very much adore me, Herald,” Sam said with a little bow of her head. “Is there something I can help you with in the wake of your recent political victories?”

Leliana pointed at the map, toward Denerim. “The Inquisitor may have destroyed much of the red lyrium mines in Fereldan, but we need to trace the coin. We want to find the middlemen making coin off this industry of misery, since we can’t pin down Corypheus at the moment.”

Samira looked at the corner of the room where Cullen usually stood during these meetings. “Sounds good, Sister Leliana. When shall I – “

“As soon as possible. And don’t linger. The Comte du Chauveau was in attendance at the Winter Palace and _someone_ had been bragging about Skyhold’s Songbird at the party. We are hoping he did not put two and two together.”

Sam’s mouth went dry at the name of her aggressive pursuer. “Who was bragging?”

Naya looked very remorseful, she cracked her knuckles nervously. “I’m sorry, Sam. It might have been my fault. I was telling Briala, a fellow elf, about you, and how you can sing in Dalish. Did you ever do such a thing in front of him?”

Samira combed her memories. “I cannot be sure. And I suppose we shouldn’t worry about it, right? You could have been talking about anyone. Please excuse me, ladies. I should get ready to leave on the morrow.”

She wanted to flee the war room before they could see how petrified she really was. The Comte’s words echoed back to her, “I _will_ break you, my beauty. I _will_ possess you.” Sam turned to go but she felt a hand on her arm. Leliana had stopped her.

“We have another item to discuss with you – and it’s rather… of a sensitive nature.”

A few things flashed into Sam’s head. Were people finally realizing she recently had been drinking too much as of late? Were they upset she flirted with so many Inquisition soldiers? Was the gig finally up, and she’d be back to busking on the streets again? A terrible thought, Sam had slept in alleyways and squatted in abandoned buildings before.

Sam refocused on the three women before her, each one more uncomfortable than the next, with the Inquisitor fidgeting with a piece of her hair, unable to look at her.

Josie took over. “We would like to speak to you about the Commander.”

_Oh boy. They’ve found out I’ve been rutting with their general. I’m definitely fired now._

Naya stopped her nervous gestures and crossed around the table, closer to Sam. “I’m afraid I’ve made things, much much worse. The Commander told me a while ago that he was determined to not take lyrium anymore.”

The panic about being fired subsided but Sam’s next emotion was empathy. She had known many drunks who tried to stop their habits, and that was hard enough. But lyrium? A Templar’s daily bread? The poor man must be suffering.

“At the Winter Palace, his – feelings for me, came to the forefront and I had to tell him once and for all that my heart belongs to Solas.”

Leliana watched the bard try to compose her face. She seemed surprised and overjoyed at the same time.

“I then also told him it would probably be best for him to back on his lyrium. It was a selfish move on my behalf, I thought it would help him – get over me.”

Josie and Leliana both bristled at this. It was clear they did not approve of the Herald’s actions.

Sam licked her lips, choosing her words carefully. “And why are you telling – me – all of this?”

Now Josie and Leliana shared a smile together as Josie continued - “We are aware of your – impact, on Commander Cullen. You should have seen his face when the Comte du Chauveau had the gall to introduce himself to us at the Winter Palace.”

Leliana laughed at the next memory, “And I heard him _whistling_ the other day. I have known the Commander for a long time, whistling is not really in his repertoire. And he was whistling one of your compositions, Samira.”

They watched as the bard blushed from head to toe. “Well, that is always flattering to hear, my ladies. You must forgive me, but I _still_ do not understand why are you telling me such personal information about the Commander?”

Leliana grew serious now, taking the girl’s hand in hers. “Will you go look in on him? He is going through a particularly rough patch of withdrawal symptoms. And he is refusing everyone’s help. Maybe you can at least get in to see him and let us know what his condition is?”

Samira’s heart began to thump like a war drum. They had no idea how badly she wanted to see him.

____

Sam went back to her room to primp a little. Just because the man was in pain didn’t mean she had to go to him looking like a sack of potatoes. She suddenly felt nervous. Just because Naya had pushed the truth into Cullen’s face didn’t mean he was going to change. _I don’t even want much from him, only the pleasure of his company._ If he wasn’t ready for ‘forever’ then neither was she. Sam wasn’t used to staying in one place long anyhow – but that did not change the way she longed to be astride him again.

She decided to take the long way around to his office, where prying eyes were a little less vigilant. Knocking on the door brought no response, so she tried the knob and found it open.

Samira stepped into his quarters, savoring the smell of the place – old books, ink, candle wax, armor polish, and the faint sweat of hard-working men. Cullen was not at his usual station behind his desk and it looked like his correspondence was piling up.

“Commander?” Her voice betrayed her nervousness, she was not sure what kind of state he was in. She heard a rustle from his loft above his office. She took a deep breath and starting climbing the ladder. He was asleep, a deep furrow in his brow, an arm thrown across the pillow above him. Samira knew it was proper to wake the man right away – but she could not help herself, she just had to look at him.

He was shirtless and only in his smalls, the sheets twisted up beneath him. The man was pure muscle and perfection, as though he had stepped down from a marble pedestal. He bore a lifetime of warrior’s scars that criss-crossed across his torso and his arms, and they only made him sexier. Setting sunshine poured down into the room, making him golden all over. The sight made Samira fervently wish she were a painter and not a singer. She imagined posing him on the bed to emphasize the planes of his body, using her hands to put him in place, then taking her time sketching him first, and the many languorous days that would pass by putting paint to canvas. They would spend so many hours together as she looked freely at his beauty – and they would stop to make love, whenever his cock grew hard under her adoring gaze.

Cullen clearing his throat broke her hungry thoughts, he had sat up in bed once he realized he had company. Sam snapped to, instantly embarrassed. “Maker, I am sorry, Commander. I came to check in on you. Josie, Leliana and Naya are very worried about you.”

“Quite a sight to wake up to – were you, _gawking_ \- at me, Mistress Blackmyre?”

She blushed, looking away, out the nearby window. They were back to formalities but for once, Sam intuited it was covering up the playfulness they both felt in each other’s company.

“Do you mind, if I – I just want to check if you have a fever. I am no healer, but I’ve been around a lot of… other people who wanted to stop their bad habits.”

He winced at her admission that she knew why he wasn’t well, but gestured for her to come closer, swinging his feet over to meet the floor, facing her. She took a step forward toward his bed, placing a cool palm against his forehead, but not coming too close to him.

“Commander, you are burning up! Are you drinking plenty of water? Can I get someone to come and – “

He grasped her wrist, looking up at her with fire in his eyes. “I don’t want to see anyone, I will not be anyone’s burden – and I can do this on my own.”

He was holding her wrist very tight, until a wave of pain hit him and he shut his eyes, groaning.

“Please lie down, Ser, you need to rest. I will go and get you plenty of water – and when was the last time you ate anything?”

He did not open his eyes when he spoke. “I do not need those things nor do I want them.” The man was nearly going grey from the pain. “But please, don’t leave.”

There they were, the words she wanted to hear. She held them close to her heart for a moment, before she kicked off her slippers and got onto the bed next to him. Sam sat with her back to the headboard, gently pulling his head into her lap. She rubbed his temples with light fingertips, working them into his hair, massaging his head, hoping it was alleviating the pain.

Cullen’s face relaxed a little. Samira started to hum, very softly, humming a lullaby. She was going to hum him every soothing song she knew, until he fell asleep. She let her fingertips graze across his brow, rubbing his temples, soothing the worried lines.

She was not sure how much time had passed or how many lullabies she had hummed, when he opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Thank you, Samira. My headache is gone.”

She ran her fingers through his blonde mane, how could a man with an army at his fingertips have such incredibly soft hair? “You’re welcome, Cullen. But may I entreat you again – please let Dorian take a look at you, he might be able to alleviate some of your symptoms. And may I bring you dinner after he’s done?”

She rubbed his shoulders for extra luck, and he relented with a sigh. “Alright, Sam, I will let you have your way.” Cullen reached up and wrapped a lock of her raven hair around his finger. “Please don’t be long.”

Samira felt his hand snake around to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to him, their lips meeting. She moaned as his tongue reached up to brush against hers. It took every fiber of discipline in her body to slide away from him, stepping into her shoes.

“I will be back.”  
“I will be waiting.”

He laid back on the bed, that arm behind his head again, smirking at her – telling her with his amber eyes that _he knew_ she had been staring at his body.

“If you’re like that when Dorian comes, the man may not be able to stop himself from jumping right into your lap.”

She started heading down the ladder and Cullen heard her speak again as she disappeared out of sight. “Maker knows I’m having trouble not doing that myself right now…”

His rich, hearty laughter washed over her as she hurried off to find her friend.

___

Samira made her way swiftly through the compound, first telling Cabot she would not be singing until later tonight, then tracking down Dorian in the library. She sent him to Cullen’s room and went to the kitchen to have them make a simple dinner for him. By the time she got back to his quarters, Dorian had finished with him, and met her at the door.

“I’ve calmed him down for the time being, the fever should go away soon too.”

Samira put the tray of food down on Cullen’s desk for a moment, throwing her arms around her favorite mage’s neck. Dorian whispered into her ear. “But you know what the man really needs – is probably for someone to get down on her pretty little knees and suck his thick cock. Is it thick, Samira? I know you know already.”

“DORIAN!”  
“He wants you to fuck him, it’s practically radiating off all that hard muscle.”  
“Dorian!”  
“It will probably help relieve some tension, you can’t deny that!”  
“Oh please get out now!”

Dorian raised his voice for the next part. “Alright Samira, I’ve given you the _very special healing instructions_. Be sure you follow them my dear, or the Commander will never get better!”

He left the room, but not before giving her a wink and a bit of a raunchy hand gesture. Samira went up the ladder to his room. Cullen did look much better, even if he had pulled on some leather breeches for Dorian’s examination. He was sitting up on the edge of the bed, stretching.

“I have dinner for you, it’s nothing fancy, but you should try to eat something.”  
“I’m still not too hungry at the moment, Sam. But what did Dorian say to you?”

Sam composed her face so she looked utterly innocent. “Oh, not much. Just that I should suck your cock, Ser. It might – make you feel better.”

He inhaled sharply. “Would it now.”

Sam bit her lip, nodding at him. “I don’t know though, don’t you think we should get a second opinion? It sounds like – “

She didn’t have time to finish, Cullen had stood up, peeling off his leathers and smalls. He flung them away with great purpose and sat back down again. He was growing rigid and ready for her. He leaned back on his hands, waiting, that delicious scar of his quirked in a lascivious grin.

Sam fell to her knees between his, grasping him, stroking him a few times in a slow, torturous manner. Cullen groaned, his head dropping back. She let her breath linger over his balls, before she dragged her tongue over both of them, making Cullen gasp with pleasure as she continued working him with her hand. He laid back against the mattress, unable to hold himself up any longer. Sam kept flicking her tongue against his most sensitive skin, breathing in the scent of him.

“Samira, this is very lovely – but it isn’t what the mage ordered.”  
“Oh, you are right, Commander. Must follow directions.”

She drew him deep into her mouth and they moaned together, he at the sensation, she at the sublime taste of him, his taste alone making her very wet. She bobbed up and down, only stopping to tease his head and run her tongue up and down the bottom of his shaft. She noted with glee that he had clenched his fists, his eyes shut tight, his stomach muscles clenched in pleasure. Samira knew he was close, so she stood up to wriggle out of her dress. Cullen sat up to watch her.

“Do you never wear smalls, Blackmyre? Have you been – this naked under your gown during all your sets at the Herald’s Rest? Andraste’s ass, woman, if the men only knew –“

Cullen grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down on the bed next to him. His calloused hands parted her brown thighs and he sighed by the sight of how wet she was for him.

“Samira, you have been so – kind – in my time of need, it warrants kindness in return, don’t you think?”

Samira couldn’t speak anymore, only nodded her head, already gripping the sheets next to her.

The Commander dipped his head to his work, tracing a little path around her clit with only the tip of his tongue. Samira arched her back in response, bringing her hips up to him even more.  He slid both hands under her ass and pushed his mouth against her, really getting to work now. He flicked at her womanhood, side to side, making her gush into his mouth even more, grinding up into his mouth as much as she could. He held her legs open, but Samira wanted to clamp them around his head, holding him there forever.

Suddenly Cullen’s mouth was on her no longer, and she whimpered in protest. Sam looked at him, and Cullen’s eyes were still locked on her cunt, one hand under her knee, keeping her wide open before him. He roughly slapped at her clit with four fingers of his other hand, making her gasp in both pleasure and surprise.

“Look how wet you are for me, Samira, it’s incredible. And – “ He licked his fingers, Samira’s eyes opened wide with passion. “You taste so fucking good.”

Cullen now stroked himself with that free hand, still holding her open. “I want to watch you touch yourself, Samira. Have you touched yourself and thought about us? Against the bookshelf? When I licked your pussy while you sucked my cock?”

Sam kept one hand on her breast, the other one found her clit and began rubbing. Cullen was going wild with lust, and she was determined to keep up with him.

“Answer me, have you thought of me?”  
“Yes, your mouth and your cock…”  
“What was my mouth doing?”  
“Eating my pussy –“  
“And what was my cock doing?”  
“I seem to have forgotten. Maybe you should refresh my memory?”

He was on her in a heartbeat, sliding into her until all of him was inside of her. Cullen pinned her hands to the mattress above her head, staring into her blue eyes, pushing himself in and out of her in a delicious, slow rhythm.

“Was it something like this maybe?”  
“I’m not sure, keep going. Maybe a little faster.”

He increased his pace, rolling his hips into her with an expert’s flair. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, and she followed its path with her eyes as it slid down the side of his face, down his chiseled jaw, and landed on her chest. He dipped his head to draw a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sucking at one, and then the other. She hated to resort to such obvious metaphors, but Cullen was playing her like an instrument, he was making her _sing._

He released her wrists, now pulling her legs up to rest against his chest, her feet behind his head. He grasped her ankles, pressing a kiss to one of them as he continued thrusting into her deeply. Samira loved this new position, it allowed him to see more of his body, and he more of hers. She rubbed her own breasts, pinching her nipples, giving him a sight to urge him on in his task. He then leaned over her, drawing her into a tight angle, her legs now hooked over his arms, her knees almost near her ears. Cullen then stopped being – subtle – as his manhood dove deeper and deeper into her. Samira crumbled against his assault, crying out as her orgasm rocked through her entire body. Cullen joined her, still thrusting through the end of his pleasure, until he was spent and lying limply on top of her.

“Feel better?”  
“Much better.”

He dropped onto the bed next to her, keeping Samira close, his breath against her neck, his heavy leg thrown over her. He made a noise of contentment as he nuzzled her neck.

“I have to go to work, Cullen.”  
“No you don’t.  
“I do. Your troops need entertainment.”  
“And what of their general? Do I not deserve the same attention?”

Samira slipped out from his grasp and off the bed, making Cullen groan in disappointment, as she looked for her dress. She pulled herself together as she looked down at him.

“Drink water, eat dinner, and go to sleep, Ser. That’s a bloody order.”

Cullen sat up, holding a hand out to her. “Will you not kiss me good night, Samira?”

Samira hated to ruin the evening they had just enjoyed together, but she was also a strong-willed woman, able to always face the ugly truth of things. She smoothed down her dress before speaking.

“Commander – I should let you know I know what happened between you and the Inquisitor at the Winter Palace. I know she quite openly rejected you. And I only want to say – I am not a substitute and I will not be treated as such. I am my own woman and I deserve to be desired because I am who I am.”

She knew her words had wounded him, judging by the way his face fell before he responded, “Did you not want to be intimate with me?”

“Oh, I did. ‘Being intimate’ is what I’d like to do with you _all the time,_ Cullen – but, I also know you would prefer to be with another.”

His amber eyes smoldered at her. “I never once said that tonight, did I?”  
“One needn’t always say things out loud for them to be true.”

Samira turned to leave but he called out to her again. “Samira, don’t go, I want to talk about this more.”

“I must go, Cullen – and tomorrow morning, I leave for Denerim. We will speak when I get back.”  
“Samira, please –“

He put a hand on her shoulder stopping her, turning her back to face him. Cullen cupped Samira’s face in his strong hands and looked right into her eyes before kissing her goodbye. Samira caressed his arms, her stern words forgotten now. “Stay strong, Cullen. I respect what you’re doing and I know it is hard.”

Samira started going down the ladder to his office and when he heard the door close after her, Cullen felt his symptoms coming back. With a melancholy sigh, he realized she had made him feel so much better, and as soon as she was gone, he was back to feeling lost, and weak.


	6. Chapter 6

Samira came back much later than they expected, almost spending a fortnight in Denerim, but she returned with a hog-tied merchant across the back of her horse. She sent a runner to the war council and the Inquisitor, and they all met her in the courtyard just in time to see her drop the hapless man onto the ground next to her mount.

Leliana looked impressed. “And who is this now?”  
Before he could answer, Sam gave the guy a small kick to the ribs. “His name is Fuller Dimsdale, and he seems to be the primary middleman in this big red lyrium mystery. I got him to admit he took money from some red-eyed templars to move some product but he balked at telling me more. Perhaps you can wheedle the rest out of him.”

Josie wrinkled her nose in disgust as the man tried to flip over off his stomach in the mud, addressing them all – “She fucking seduced me, the cunt! She duped it out of me! I demand you release me and let me return to – “

Sam kicked him again, before two soldiers could take him away to the dungeons. “I did not _seduce_ him, he’s being a twat. I just made him think I was going to seduce him.” She glanced at Cullen – but he gave her no sign if he cared about her activities, even if they were on behalf of the Inquisition. Samira felt that familiar icy sensation swirling around her chest, as Cullen looked at the Herald with his usual gooey deference as they consulted about how to proceed with the Denerim merchant.

“Alright, if you’ll all excuse me, I need a drink. And a bath.” She stormed away from them, heading for her room. Naya called to her as she left, “We will need to speak to you soon, we have a very big event planned and you are an essential part of it!”

Samira didn’t head toward her room, she wanted the drink first. She pushed open the door to the Herald’s Rest, grabbed a whiskey bottle from behind the bar and sat down in a dark corner. It didn’t take long for Varric to sidle up to her and join her.

“Glad you’re back Birdie. It’s a bit early to be pounding down the hard stuff, isn’t it?”  
“I’m bloody tired. I rode all the way back here from Denerim with a prize plum for the Inquisition on the back of my horse and nobody cared.”  
“Nobody cared, or someone in particular didn’t care?”  
Varric held his glass out to her and she poured him a shot.  
“Am I that transparent.”

They clinked glasses together and downed the strong alcohol. “It looks like after Curly survived this last round of withdrawals, the Inquisitor begged him to forgive her for suggesting he keep taking lyrium. I heard Ruffles whispering about it to the Nightingale, those two are worse than a couple of teenage schoolyard gossips. He could be back to being stuck on her, who knows. Or? Maybe he just didn’t want to paw you all over in front of his boss and coworkers.”

Sam swallowed down another big gulp. “Oh well. Cock. And balls. Big bloody rodgering dicks. And the cock-sucking mother-humping cunt-knocking hell of my life.”

“Very colorful, Birdie. I love that you are a woman of the world.”

Samira had a few more drinks with Varric before seeking out a long, hot bath. Afterward she was so relaxed she decided she needed one more night off from the Herald’s Rest. She fell asleep early, glad to be so exhausted she could not stay up all night, fretting about her love life.  
  
_ _ _

The next day Sam was cutting through the garden after lunch when Dorian’s voice stopped her - “Excuse me, young lady, but why did you not come to tell me you were back?”

She turned around with a smile, which vanished when she saw he was sitting with Cullen, enjoying a chess game in the spring sunshine. Samira tried to play it off as though she did not mean to stop to chat, and continued walking to her room.

“Where you going, you daft woman?”  
“Gotta go do things, songs, stuff, over there…”

A sharp electrical _shock_ hit her right on the right butt cheek – Dorian had zapped her to stop her in her tracks. “You bloody rude Vint bastard, that hurt!”  
“Then come over here or you’ll get one on the left cheek next!”  
  
Sam shuffled back toward them like a morose child, wishing she could shoot fireballs into Dorian’s smirking face. Sam glanced at the Commander, who purred her name at her in greeting. “Samira.” Samira steeled herself against the desire that welled up in her at the mere sound of his voice. “What do you want, Pavus?”  
  
The two men kept at their game as Dorian continued.  “Weren’t we supposed to meet today, right now? Right here?”  
“How could we have made plans if I haven’t seen you until a moment ago?” Dorian’s smirk disappeared, his cheap ploy easily shattered.

“But I’m sure I asked you to meet me in the garden in the afternoon, when we had breakfast this morning?”  
“Dorian, even the Commander knows I’m never awake for breakfast.”

She finally looked at Cullen, who was smiling at her, one of those endearing lop-sided grins of his. She held his gaze, trying to telepathically tell him she loathed him, but then he broke the look, his eyes sweeping up and down her body in her tight new leathers, making her squirm a little under his heated gaze.

“Alright, if you’re done pestering me to death, I must away. I have to go – finger my lute.” Cullen raised an eyebrow at her poor choice of words and she groaned, slapping herself on the forehead. She tried to walk away again but Dorian grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. He gasped in theatrical surprise, keeping his eyes on the chessboard. “Well, will you look at that, the Commander has beaten me fair and square. How humiliating! A dried up husk of an ex-Templar against me, the greatest mind of my generation.”

Cullen wasn’t pleased about the dried up husk remark. “Dorian, what’d I say about being a total and utter – “

He was interrupted by Iron Bull, who sauntered around the corner, trying to look natural, but failing miserably. “Oh, there you are, Dorian. I was just looking for you. I need your help – over there.” Iron Bull herded Dorian away with a gigantic hand, the two of them giving Sam a set of obvious grins. She made slashing gestures across her neck, hoping they’d understand that later, she was going to have to hurt them for this ridiculous set up to get her alone with the Commander.

Samira turned back to look at Cullen, who was still smiling at her. “Would you fancy a game, bard?”

“No. Maybe. Yes. No. Fine, why not. You can ask me about the fool I brought back from Denerim while we play.” She dropped into chair across from him with a huff. She watched him resetting the board and thought about the irony of it all. _I’m as stuck on him as he is on her. How can I judge him?_

“You did a fine job with that sad little merchant.”  
“Thank you, Ser.”  
“How did you tie him up like that?”  
“I grew up on a farm, Commander. I’ve had to wrangle my fair share of sheep and goats.”  
“I grew up on a farm too.”

There was a relaxed warmth in his tone that made her look up at him. She took one of his pawns and put it down next to her.

“Samira, weren’t we supposed to have a talk when you got back?”  
“I see no reason to. Everything seems _just peachy_ between you and your Herald.”  
“It is true, she has since apologized to me about that night at the Winter Palace, and what she told me about staying on lyrium. She now knows that was terribly cruel of her to suggest that to me.”

Cullen took one of her bishops, having maneuvered her into a tight spot. “Bugger and balls,” Samira muttered to herself before continuing her thoughts. “Well, good for you, Commander. I hope you live happily ever after. You and two elves with their heads in the clouds. That’d be a funny song. I’ll try to remember that one.”

She hovered a hand over her rook, deciding on her next move – but Cullen’s hand stopped hers, gripping it in his soft leather glove. “No, Samira –“

She shook off his hand and placed her rook into its new position – where Cullen took it from her quickly with his knight.

“I was trying to stop you because you’re wrong about the Inquisitor and me. And also because that was a terrible, terrible move.”

Sam was getting wrapped up in the competitive spirit of the game as she studied the board and answered him in a distracted fashion. “Alright, spell it out for me, Ser. How am I wrong?”

“I know she will never love me back. I have accepted that now. I’m getting over her, I’m going to get her out of my system, the way I’m working on the lyrium. It won’t always be easy for me – but you must be patient with me, Samira. Luckily, I’ve found a good antidote to her charms. ”

Cullen was hoping his words were having some effect on softening the bard’s heart, but she hadn’t even been listening. Samira made a sound of delight as she took one of his pesky bishops. “Yes, my luck is changing!”

Cullen watched her put the bishop with her other pieces with a little triumphant grin. “Samira, were you listening to me?”

She looked at him with an apologetic grimace. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, Commander. What were you saying?”

Cullen sighed in disappointment. “Samira, I was pouring my heart out to you and –“

Samira was back to studying the board in deep concentration, and Cullen really couldn’t tell if she was avoiding their conversation or was really just that immersed in their game. He decided he could use this to his advantage.

“Alright, Samira Lyanna Blackmyre. Let’s make it interesting, let’s make a bet.”

She rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair, arms crossed. “Creators, everyone in this castle loves to bet. You should have opened a casino and not a bar. Alright, what are the terms?”

“If I win – “ He leaned forward in his chair, his voice husky and seductive. “We walk over to the stables, and providing Blackwall isn’t hanging around – I fuck you hard until your eyes roll back in your head.”

Samira had to steady her voice. “And if I win, Commander?”  
“You pick your terms, bard.”  
Samira foot slipped up Cullen’s leg under the table, no accident. “I can pick anything?”  
“Anything within the bounds of reason?”

Three of Cullen’s troops passed by their table in the shade. One of the young men felt bold enough to give the Commander an encouraging hand gesture in the direction of the bard. Samira smiled, knowing what she would choose now.

“My terms are this. I win, and you sing for _me_ in the Herald’s Rest. One song. In front of everybody. Oh, and I pick the song.”

Cullen groaned, rubbing his neck. “Maker’s breath, let’s just forget the whole thing.”  
“Are you scared, Commander?”  
“No, just disappointed. Your terms have nothing to do with – “

Cullen waited for a healer girl to pass by before he finished. “- _rutting.”_  
Samira took one of his lingering pawns. “Tsk tsk, Ser. Not everything is about rutting.”

Six moves later, Cullen was mortified to learn he would be singing Andraste’s Mabari in two night’s time in front of every soul who could fit into the Herald’s Rest. Samira got up from their game, cackling, arms raised in very unsportsmanlike conduct.

“Yes! In your face, Commander! I can’t wait to tell Varric! Oh sweet victory, how I have longed for you!”

Cullen kept his eyes closed, bemused but also very annoyed. When he opened them again he saw Samira in retreat, almost skipping back to her room. He stood up and followed her. “Wait, Sam, where do you think you are going?”

“I have gloating to do, Ser! Gloating’s afoot!”

He caught up to her and grabbed her arm, maneuvering her into the shadow of an arching doorway. His broad shoulders blocked out her view of the courtyard as he placed a hand on either side of her head, trapping her there. His voice was low and serious as he murmured to her, “You may doubt my feelings, Samira, but that does not stop me from wanting you – and the things we have done together.”

Samira was too used to jesting, even as the thump of her pulse drowned out her own words, “Things? Could you be more specific?”

He leaned down and nudged the neck of her tunic away, kissing her where her neck met her shoulder. The rasp of his stubble on her skin gave her gooseflesh up and down her body.

“All the – perfect kisses – in the world will not get you out of the terms of your bet, Commander. A few more couldn’t hurt though.”

He did not need more encouragement, he dipped his mouth to hers and Samira sighed against his lips as she felt his tongue in her mouth. Samira did the math in her head, _how many steps to the stables you think_?

Cullen broke the kiss, a smirk playing about his face. “Were you just thinking about _my_ terms had I won them?”

She had a smart-ass answer ready to go but she leaned too hard against the door behind her and it fell open, sending Samira tumbling before Cullen could get an arm around her.

Sam landed in some sort of alchemy room – where Solas and Naya were filling row after row of elfroot potions. Naya and Cullen both made a move to help her up, but Cullen got there first.

“So, there you have it, Mistress Blackmyre, this is, where the uh, –“  
Sam continued for him, “Potions, and I assume…unguents? Are made? I-I’ve never been in here before. Interesting.”

Cullen pulled the most adorable face. “What are – _unguents?_ ”  
Sam rolled her eyes in the direction of the two bewildered elves. “Come along, Commander, let us find you a dictionary.”

Sam and Cullen exited the potions room as quickly as they had fallen into it, Naya’s eyes narrowing at the sound of the laughter they left in their wake.

Naya turned to Solas, who handed her a funnel so they could continue their work. “I guess ours is not the only romance _brewing_ in Skyhold, hmm?

The Inquisitor stared at him. Solas looked in the direction of the big pot of potions he was stirring. “Do you get it? Brewing?”

Naya gave him the tiniest of smiles, and only because in her head she could hear Varric’s voice: _“And this is why I call you Chuckles.”_

She filled another potion, feeling a little uneasy. And there was Varric again, in the back of her mind:  
  
_“Hey, are you jealous, Inquisitor? Now there’s a plot twist.”_

  
___

  
Samira spent the next two days in a bit of an emotional uproar. She had decided that if Cullen could not hold up his end of the bet, she’d be done with him for good. Promises were very serious business. But other thoughts swirled in her head while she was pretending to listen to people talking to her. _Is this all for naught? So what if he sang for me? Perhaps he would sober up soon and realize it was rather unseemly for the high-ranking Commander of a formidable army to be dallying with a lowly tavern singer._ _But it’s not like we’ve been doing it in the courtyard. We could continue on in secret – forever, right?_ She swung back and forth between hope and despair like this until it was the night he had to show up in the Herald’s Rest.

He was late of course, she figured as much. Varric had done a good job making sure the house was packed - the Commander had been beaten in a game of chess and now had deliver on his bet.

Sam was just about to send one of his runners to look for him when Cullen pushed open the door to the pub – or at least tried to. The place was so packed he could barely wedge himself inside. _Oh Maker, Leliana, Josie, Naya, and all of her friends are here? Wonderful._ The soldiers erupted into cheers and they patted him on the back and shoulders as he made his way through the crowd. They parted for him, revealing Sam in the middle of the room, beaming with delight.

“Ah, here is the Commander now. And you came without your armor, Ser? You’d think you’d would want a little protection when you inevitably are pelted with rotten tomatoes and refuse!”

The crowd emitted ‘ohhhhs’ and tittered at her banter. He gave her one of those seductive smirks. “You presume I cannot sing, bard?”  
“I do presume. And probably quite a bit of this lot does too, judging by the size of the crowd.”

Sam couldn’t see Naya’s face from where she stood, but Naya was smiling to herself. _She_ knew Cullen could sing, _she had heard him once before_.

“Do you desire accompaniment, Commander?”  
“Just a little. Try not to upstage me, Blackmyre.”

Sam made quick eye contact with Dorian, who knew she was relishing all of this. Iron Bull leaned closer to Dorian. “They’re cute, aren’t they.”  
“Certainly, but not as cute as you and me.”

Sam strummed an introduction for the Commander and the room grew silent. As he launched into the familiar folk tune, the goofy smiles started to fade from people’s faces. Naya was right, Cullen could sing. He had a rich baritone, and he approached the song without pretention – it left Sam astonished. He was a natural. She leaned against a nearby pillar still accompanying him on the harp, drinking in the sight of him making his way through the second verse. The Commander had the crowd in the palm of his hand.

 _And there's Andraste's mabari_  
_By the Holy Prophet's side._  
_In the fight against Tevinter,_  
_That dog would never hide._  
_They say the Maker sent him special,_  
_Always loyal, without pride,_  
_So he could be the sworn companion_  
_Of the Maker's Holy Bride._

Cullen stopped here, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh. I’ve – forgotten the rest of it.” Laughter liberally mixed with applause was his reward, as well as Sam dipping her head at him in respect.

“I humbly retract my foolish words from earlier. Commander Rutherford – you are a natural. Should you ever retire from military life, I believe you have found your new occupation. We could go on the road together.”

Sam hoped that didn’t sound too much like “I’d run away with you, let’s go right now”. Cullen’s eyes twinkled at her, as he was swept away from her by a group of his veteran soldiers, drinks pushed into his hands.

Samira was done for - hooked, finished, ruined, defeated, elated, doomed.  If Cullen was going to hurt her later, it didn’t matter right now. Right now it felt good every single time he glanced at her.

That feeling deflated when Sam saw the Inquisitor making her way to Cullen and his friends, and of course, with little effort, she looked radiant tonight. Samira felt time slow down as Naya put an elegant hand on his arm – he turned to face her and she saw him catch his breath when he realized it was her. Sam watched her lips carefully, one of her old tavern tricks.

_“That was wonderful, Cullen. You should sing more often. Why I would even say you’re better than Samira.”_

Samira squeezed his wrist now, running a hand up his forearm in what was definitely a caress. This was the most she ever saw Naya touch the man. She focused on Cullen’s response.

 _“Thank you, Inquisitor. You are, as always, much too good to me.”_ He bent over her hand, touching his lips to her knuckles. He stood up and brushed a lock of her silver hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear for her.

 _Well fuck_. _I clearly should have let him win that chess game._

Samira took a look around the Herald’s Rest and saw that everyone was appropriately distracted, drunk, or tired and ready to leave. She slipped out amidst the commotion.

In the crisp mountain air, Sam looked at the moon above her. _There’s still time to salvage this mess._

___

The Commander stumbled back to his quarters, feeling proud, and pretty drunk. It had been a long time since he had spent that much time with his own soldiers, bonding with them, it made everyone feel human again. And he had Samira to thank for it, really. _Where did she go though…?_

Cullen wobbled into his office, whistling Andraste’s Mabari to himself – and almost jumped out of his breeches when a second whistle joined him, harmonizing perfectly.

“Sam?”  
“Did you think it was going to be someone else?”

Cullen dropped his jacket on the ground, kicked off his boots, and scrambled up the ladder. The bard was lying naked and belly down on his comforter, chin propped up on hands, waiting for him, her full, inviting buttocks illuminated in the moonlight.

“You did such a lovely job tonight, I thought I’d show my appreciation. I’m a – really big fan of your work,” Sam said, like a flirtatious sycophant.  
  
Cullen started yanking his clothes off. “Oh, do your admirers wait naked in your bed for you to come back from the Herald’s Rest?” he said from somewhere inside his tunic.

“No, I keep _my_ door locked.”

Once he was naked, she sat up with an appreciative, cat-like smile.

“Cullen, you are a work of art in more than one way.”

He took himself in hand, making Samira moan and lie back on his pillows. He stroked himself for her benefit as much as his and it made Samira squeeze her knees together.

“No, Sam, open for me.”

She spread her legs for him, making him moan now. “And I’m the work of art, Samira?”

He took a step toward the bed but then stopped when he heard a creak from somewhere in his quarters – “Did you hear something?”

Sam shook her head no, but the two grew still for a second, until she whispered, “Do you think it’s Corypheus?”

It cracked him up. She always made him laugh. Samira made him feel good, maybe because she never had to take an order from him, never had to ask him for advice on the battlefield. Their relationship was all music and sex and laughter. Sam crooked a finger at him, bidding him to come to her.

Cullen crawled onto the bed, sweeping his hands up her thighs, his lips landing right on her pussy. Samira ran her fingers through his hair, then pushed hard on the back of his head. He looked up at her, enjoying the sight of her going wild under his tongue. She writhed, she trembled, she swore and said filthy things to him, like how she thought about his cock at least ten times a day. It was incentive enough to remove his mouth and replace it with his hard manhood. Cullen held her legs open, so he could see exactly where they connected together. He slid in and out of her, taking his time, just enjoying the sight and sensation of filling her up, reaching down to press his thumb to her clit, making her roll her eyes back in her head.

“Cullen, please.”  
He practically had to shake his head to refocus on what she was saying. “Sam?”  
“I want to ride you again.”

With an easy tumble, Cullen rolled to the mattress, now on his back, while she stayed impaled on his cock.

“Smooth move, Commander.”

He was in no mood for too much banter tonight. Cullen kept her hips in his iron grip as he rocketed up into her. Sam bent forward, letting him suck on one nipple, and then the other, before she had to hold onto the headboard as his thrusts grew more insistent. She slammed a hand down on his chest as she shuddered into release, eyes rolling back in her head.

“I’m not done with you yet, bard. Hands and knees.”

She whimpered as she dismounted him, falling forward onto the mattress. Cullen jammed a pillow underneath her, propping her hips up, giving her something to bite down on if need be. He couldn’t hear what she was muttering anymore, now that she was facing away from him, but it was something like _make me come again_ _you golden god._

He inched his way back into her, her pussy was fire-hot, soft and wet. He pushed his way until he could go no further and Samira mumbled something again, into the depths of the pillow. Cullen grabbed a handful of her black hair and pulled her all the way up so her back was against his chest.

“What did you say?”

She gasped in pain and pleasure, her head tight against his fist. “I said – hello, Commander.”

Cullen pinned her there against him, wrapping his arm around her, thrusting into her with gusto. He reached around and between Samira’s legs, placing his index and middle finger on either side of her clit, and began shaking his hand.

“Oh fuck, you can’t – “  
“I certainly can –“  
“Oh Maker –“  
“Let the Maker hear you, Samira.”

Samira thundered into her second orgasm, collapsing on the pillow before her. He reached under her and flipped her over onto her back, _creators_ the man was strong. Sam took one look at his throbbing staff and pulled herself up, dropping her mouth down on him. She could taste herself and him, at the same time and she felt her cunt twitch again. Cullen wove his fingers through her hair and then pushed forward, nearly making her gag. He pulled out of her in concern.

“Samira, did I hurt you?”

She didn’t answer, just swallowed him up again, as far as she could take him. Cullen began moving in and out of her mouth, relishing the sensation of her tongue against the bottom of his shaft.

“Samira –“

He knew he was close but Sam wouldn’t stop at her very important task, she increased her speed, sucked harder. She lifted a hand and graced her quick fingers over his balls, so soft and intimate and gentle – it was enough to make him shudder and lose himself, gasping as his seed shot forth into her mouth.

Sam sat back on her heels and just smiled at him. “Well, I for one am glad we did not do that in the stables.”

He smirked at her, snaking an arm around her waist, pulling her down on the bed next to him, facing each other. He brushed her hair away from her face, gazing at her in a very sated manner.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”  
She frowned and looked away.

“Oh, I don’t really like that. Waking up and seeing each other in that harsh morning light. Bad breath and regrets.”

“I don’t regret this, Samira. I hope you know that.”  
“I don’t either.” She smiled, touching the scar on his lip. He kissed her finger as she did so.

“So you won’t stay tonight?”

“One day I will, Cullen. And then you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

He watched her pull on her clothes and pick up her lute and sling it on its strap over her shoulder. She walked toward him, now sitting up on the edge of the bed.

“Good night, my love.”

Cullen pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her again, laying his head on her belly. He sighed as she ran both her hands through his hair, and then too quickly, Samira was gone – down the ladder, each footfall more painful than the last, until the sound of the door clicking shut after her felt like a knife point pressed against his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ten points if you know where the name 'DIMSDALE' comes from.)


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning the Inquisitor called for a bath before she headed to war council. Naya sank into the hot water. She felt a throbbing deep inside her and she tried to work out exactly what it meant, because she was a smart, level-headed woman, not prone to emotional theatrics.

She took a deep breath and outlined her circumstances. She was jealous Cullen no longer gazed upon her as though she were a religious deity, an elven beauty queen whose feet barely touched the ground.

She was – deeply jealous – of everything Sam and Cullen did together last night.

The Inquisitor had followed her Commander back to his quarters, instinctively knowing Sam had left early to meet him there. She scaled the tower using the easy footholds of the stones. When they had arrived in Skyhold, she had climbed all the towers like this, not because she hoped to spy on anyone, but because she simply had wanted to, missing the tall forest trees of her native lands. And Naya was almost caught! Cullen had heard the broken ceiling above his bed creak under her weight as she peered through the boards, but the two were quickly swept up in their passion to continue being paranoid.

The Herald could count at least _six_ things Cullen and Samira did together that she had never experienced herself – or even heard about before. His mouth on her pussy, making her squirm. His manhood buried deep in her mouth until she swallowed his seed. Taking her roughly from behind, with hair pulling and sordid words. Riding him so hard she had to hold on to the headboard. Naya had not known you could _climax_ twice in one night, not to mention twice in an hour’s span. But the image Naya could not get out of her head was how Cullen had watched his cock slide in and out of her as he held Samira’s legs wide open. Just remembering Sam touching her heaving breasts as he pleasured her in such a wanton, indulgent fashion made Naya blush.

Lady Lavellan had never done any of these things with Solas. He was always on top. He was always gentle. He was done after an adequate set of thrusts. He never once took her from behind while putting his _fingers_ down there.

The Inquisitor released the edge of the bathtub she had been gripping and let the hand drift beneath the water. She parted her knees and touched herself, finding herself already wet. Naya worked her fingers in a circle, recasting herself into the scenes from last night. Her head fell back on the tub as she let a moan leave her parted lips.

“Naya, _vhenan_ , are you alright?”

Solas had appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, holding an old book. She immediately sat up and composed herself, aching in frustration.

“I’m fine. I almost fell asleep in the tub. I guess I was dreaming.”  
“Well, you’re going to be late to your meeting. Let me help you.”

Solas put his book down and picked up a towel waiting nearby. Naya stepped out of the water, baring her flawless ivory body to him, her pert pink nipples tightening in the cold air – and she watched him look away in modesty, holding the towel out to her. After she was covered, he sat down on a nearby armchair and turned his interest to his tome.

Here she was, naked and stunning, and the man didn’t even have the audacity to stare at her.

She dressed in a huff, leaving her lukewarm lover to his book. As she flew down the stairs out of her room, she knew right then – _I must have Cullen too. I want to know what I am was missing. I want to be pinned down by the weight of his muscles, and those golden eyes._

Naya pushed into the war room to find Vivienne, Josie and Leliana bickering over details about the grand party they hoped to throw in Empress Celene’s honor, in thanks for her full support of the Inquisition. Josie was going to redecorate the great hall, Leliana wanted to invite the right nobles to play a bit more of The Game she was so fond of.  Vivienne was in charge of the aesthetics, choosing the food and drink – and making sure all the high-ranking members of the Inquisition, from Sera to Iron Bull, were decked out and looking splendid. Madame de Fer was arguing they were presenting themselves as a force to be reckoned with – not just politically and diplomatically, but culturally as well. Which is exactly when Naya entered the room.

“We must provide them some entertainment after dinner – Orlesians are accustomed to either a show or some dancing. And I know we don’t quite have a ballroom up here.”

Josie had her arms full with a few bolts of fabric in her arms, trying to not let the ends of them touch the floor. “Our Samira can sing, isn’t that good enough?”

“For a tiny bar full of common foot soldiers, yes, but not for dukes and duchesses, comtes and contessas. We need some showmanship, dear!”

Cullen burst into the war room next, apple-cheeked and looking better than he had in a long time. “Good morning ladies, and Madame de Fer, what a pleasant surprise.”

The elegant mage allowed him to bow over her hand before she snatched it away and continued their discussion. “Samira cannot just stand up there on stage with her lute and warble Thedas’s greatest hits. Can’t you see we need more than that?”

Naya watched Cullen stand up straighter at the sound of his lover’s name. Even if he was confident in the bedroom, he still always had trouble with his words. “S-Samira? What of her? She’s. She’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she? I quite – like. Listening to her?”

Leliana slapped his arm and muttered something to him about _being less obvious_. Naya then stumbled on to a solution that would satisfy the mage - and give her some time alone with Cullen.

“Why not take Samira with you to Val Royeaux, Vivienne? We can give her enough coin to hire more musicians, maybe find some new songs. And she is ever so stylish, she can be a blessing to you as you coordinate the many details regarding fashion, food and the like, and also serve as your lady in waiting as you travel.” _And maybe while she’s away Cullen will want to put his mouth on me._

Vivienne perked up at the idea of more help, but the light went out of Cullen’s eyes fast. Naya felt a ping of guilt, but – she had her needs. She was the Inquisitor, she was saving the world from itself – why shouldn’t she have what she wanted.

“Splendid idea, Lady Lavellan. I shall coordinate with our bard and leave as soon as possible. The ball is in 3 weeks, after all, and we must get ready! Commander – this means you too. We can’t have you clanking around in your armor. When I’m done with you, you’ll have to fend off at least seven marriage proposals.”

Cullen groaned. He hated this stuff. He’d rather be camped in the Fallow Mire fighting the undead rather than have to stand and let a handful of women paw over him with fabrics and measuring tapes.

“Ladies, will you please excuse me, I must – see to – I have to go talk to someone.”  
Vivienne knew where he was going. “Please tell Sam to be ready to leave on the morrow.”

Cullen spun toward the door, Leliana’s voice trying to stop him as he retreated. “But Commander, we need to talk about the Shrine of Dumat, what should we do about – “

The Spymaster was startled when Cullen cut her off. “Discuss your party for now, the strategy can keep for fifteen minutes until I return.”

One of Josie’s bolts of fabric slipped out of her hands and hit the ground, her eyes wide as the door slammed behind him. “He really has it bad, doesn’t he.”

Leliana smiled, very satisfied. “I’m ever so happy for him. I’ve never seen the man so – light-hearted before. It’s so sweet.”

Nobody noticed Naya holding on to the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were turning white.  


___

Cullen rushed from the war room straight to Samira’s quarters. He knew she’d be asleep but he had to see her, now that he knew she’d be away for a few weeks. He knocked on her door softly – and then harder when she did not respond. He then heard the creak of her bedsprings as she got up. A very sleepy Samira opened the door an inch, clad in an improbably modest, high-necked white cotton nightgown.

“Who is it, what do you want. I need to sleep, rest my voice. And other parts of me.”

Cullen pushed the door open, and did not ask if he could enter. He stepped into her room, filling the space, shutting the door behind him.

“ _They_ are sending you away. Tomorrow. _They_ did not even ask to consult with you.”  
  
Samira yawned and stretched, nonplussed. “So? They always send me away. I’m an agent of the Inquisition.”

Cullen removed his gloves and lifted her face to his with gentle fingers under her chin.

“They are sending you to Val Royeaux. I do not want you to go. What if the Comte du Chauveau is still looking for you?”

A frisson of panic passed through Samira’s body, even as she tried to keep her words steady. “He was one of Gaspard’s men. Maybe… maybe they have locked him away for treason or something.”  
  
“Highly unlikely, not with Orlesian politics. He probably has ingratiated himself to Empress Celene and denied knowledge of any plot.”  
  
“Cullen, you’re scaring me. Maybe I should just disappear in the night, end of – problem.”

Cullen grasped her by the shoulders, almost shaking her. “What about me, what will I do without you? Samira, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since my men set you down in front of me on that shabby trunk of yours, holding your black lute – you had dirt on your perfect little nose that day.”

Samira let a tiny gasp pass her lips as she sat down on her bed. “Oh Cullen. You… sap. I love you too.”

He dropped to his knees before her, raining kisses on her hands, his head in her lap. Her next words upset him.

“I have to go if they want me to go.”

Samira massaged his head like she did when he was going through his withdrawals. She raked her fingers through his hair and hummed, soothing him. After a while, he stood up, glowering down at her, his voice stern and serious.

“You will wear an Orlesian mask as soon as you leave Skyhold, and you will keep it on whenever you are in public. And I am sending two men to be with you and Lady Vivienne while you are in the capital. You will not refuse me either thing.”

Her voice was small and obedient. “Yes, Commander.”

Cullen pulled his gloves back on with a tempting twist at the corner of his sexy mouth. “You are lucky I must return to council – else I would rip that ridiculous, virginal nightgown from your body and rut you right here in your own bed, rough and hard like you like it.”

He disappeared from her chambers, leaving Samira to bite her lip and squirm over his very sensual threat. There was no going back to sleep now, not after a man like Cullen says such things to you. Samira decided to start her day early, and begin packing.

 

___

The next morning, Vivienne and Samira left for Val Royeaux in Josie’s well-appointed carriage she used for diplomatic missions. Much to Cullen’s annoyance, Samira had refused to lay with him the night before, citing wanting to save her energy, and also refused to stay in his room overnight, denying him the simple warmth of her company. He was incredibly annoyed he did not get to say goodbye to her alone. Quite a few of Naya’s inner circle got up early to put in special orders with Samira, everyone wanting something from the capital.

Dorian handed Samira a slip of paper. She unrolled it and immediately turned beet-red. “I am not getting this for you, Dorian! How embarrassing! They will know _what it is for._ ”

Iron Bull rolled his eyes. “They’ll just think you’re a prostitute, it’s not a big deal. Lots of women are prostitutes, it’s good, steady work.”

“Well, give me enough coin to buy me a bottle of whiskey then, you twats. It’s the least I deserve for people thinkin’ I’m a prossie.”

The others lined up after Bull. Dagna had a list of creepy arcane ingredients she wanted, Cassandra whispered to her that she’d like a stack of new smutty romance novels. Solas needed new paints for his murals, Varric wanted her to deliver a few new chapters of his book to his publishers for early editing and notes. Only after everyone put in their demands did Cullen get a moment of her time. Behind the carriage, where he hoped Varric couldn’t see him, he handed Sam a black velvet purse, heavy with coin.

“Get yourself more – _lacy_ smalls, please. I rather like those. Black. Or how about – red? Do they come in pink too?”

Samira could not control the dirty grin spreading across her face. Cullen lent a hand to Lady Vivienne as she stepped into the carriage, and then Sam. He held her hand a touch longer. “Please be safe, ladies. Frayling and Wilder will be always at your side, isn’t that right?”

The two soldiers answered him from their posts up front - “Yes, Ser!”

He signaled to the driver to begin their journey. Cullen watched as Samira touched her fingers to her lips and then held them up toward him in a small, wistful wave. The sweet gesture nearly brought him to his knees as the carriage rolled away from him. Dorian and Iron Bull came up beside him, knowing the man was a little stricken.

“It will be alright, Cullen. She’s just going to Val Royeaux. You’re not sending her to the Free Marches.”

Cullen composed himself, and asked the next question without looking at them. “And what did you ask Samira to buy for you in the capital?”

Dorian answered while Iron Bull chuckled to himself. “Just a little special oil and – a toy, of sorts. Commander, are you aware of the other – areas of pleasure – besides the most obvious ones on a woman? Or a man, for that matter?”

The Commander wavered on his feet. “The other… what? With who?”

Dorian put an arm around him. “Come, let’s go eat breakfast, and discuss the intricacies of human anatomy.”

  
___

Cullen was walking through the courtyard in a bit of a fog. Dorian had been _very explicit_ during breakfast, with Iron Bull smiling knowingly throughout his lecture. Sam had only been gone a few hours but he was longing for her now. Their highly sexual relationship – now with the added bonus of _actual_ _feelings_ – was one of his favorite things in his life, and it felt like his secret, a gift for him alone to enjoy. He opened the door to the war room, early for the meeting, and was startled to find only the Herald there, as though she were waiting for him.

“Good morning, Lady Lavellan. And how do you fare this morning?”

The man used to only stutter and blush in front of her, now he looked right at her with friendly interest. It was off-putting.

“I am fine, Cullen. Did you see Sam and Lady Vivienne off to Val Royeaux?”  
“Of course.”

He wasn’t even bothering to hide his affection for Samira any more. The irritation must have shown in her face – made worse by his next question. “And how is Solas this morning? Head in a book I trust?”  
  
“And what’s wrong with reading a book?”  
Cullen thought about it for a moment and then cracked a goofy, content grin. “Nothing, I suppose.”

He turned his attention to some reports that had arrived that morning, humming to himself a jaunty melody. Naya was just about to snap at him to stop when Leliana and Josie swept into the room, the two of them in high spirits as well, the party planning in high gear. Naya’s exasperation hit a peak.

“Will everyone please stop being so happy!?”

Her three councilors stopped their conversations. The Inquisitor did not raise her voice often. Leliana gave Cullen a look that said, “ _You do something about this_.”

“Inquisitor, perhaps you should – take the day off today. Let the three of us handle some of this business,” Cullen said in a soft voice she had heard him use when talking to his war horse when the beast was skittish.

“No, I highly doubt you can handle all of this without me. Commander, what of the water supply at the Western Approach? The red lyrium quarry in Emprise du Lion? Leliana, how is the vetting of the guest list? How can we be sure we are not inviting traitors and spies into our home? How many agents will we have stationed in the crowd at the party? Josephine, what… what kind of canapes are we going to serve?”

Everyone froze during her barrage of questions. Josie cleared her throat, the only one ready to answer. “So far, we’ve settled on fois gras on puff pastry, wild salmon and dill on rye toast points, bacon-wrapped dates and platters of crudites. Do you have – any objections, Lady Lavellan?”

Naya snapped to, pulling herself out of her petulant display. “I am sorry everyone, I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps you are right, Cullen, I could just use a little fresh air. We are under so much pressure, and our enemies are still out there.”

Leliana guided her to the war room door, also keeping her voice calm and leveled as Cullen had before. “Go sit in the garden, or go for a walk perhaps?”

Naya nodded, fidgeting with a strand of her impossibly silver hair. “I fancy a ride, I think. Commander, would you accompany me? We can go down to my conifer forest just outside the gates?”

Cullen looked down at the stack of paperwork that had been handed to him this morning. He didn’t see the looks Leliana and Josie exchanged with each other. Once upon a time the man would have stumbled over his feet to have such an opportunity alone with the Inquisitor.

“Of course, Naya. I can return to my work when we return.”

The two saddled up their favorite mounts and left for a ride, as casual as can be. But the ever-present Varric was on hand to see them leaving together, as he gnawed on an apple near the sparring ring, watching Ser Barris work over some new recruits.

“What goes on here, do you think?” Varric drawled.  
A smile played about Ser Barris’s face. “They always want what they can’t have, right?”  
“Yeah, but Curly has been downright happy lately, ever since Birdie showed up.”  
“I wasn’t talking about the Commander, dwarf.”  


___  


Cullen hummed to himself as they headed out of Skyhold toward a patch of forest Naya had been quick to find on the long march from Haven to their new home. As they rode, Cullen thought about Samira on her way to Val Royeaux – and hopefully about the lacy underthings she’d be buying for his benefit once she got there. At the edge of the group of trees, Cullen tied up their two horses and followed Naya into the trees. The thick smell of petrichor enveloped his senses, and the light grew dimmer in the thicket.

Cullen watched Naya sit down on a boulder amongst some forest flowers. She patted the stone next to her.

“Are you sure you need my company, Inquisitor? I can wait with the horses, I brought a few reports with me – “

Naya wrinkled her nose at him, “You brought – work – with you? But this was supposed to be about not working?”

“It was supposed to be about _you_ not working, not me.”  
“How about if I command you to sit down, you must listen, yes?”

Cullen sighed and started picking his way over the logs and rocks toward her boulder. He would have been content to stand near his horse and think lascivious things about his bard.

He sat down next to Naya, at a respectful distance. She patted the rock again. He moved over two inches. She patted it _again_ – and he moved over more. He was close enough to hold his hand, which she did before he could object.

“I feel like we haven’t had any time to talk since – your health issues. Are you feeling better nowadays?”

“Very much, Inquisitor.” _No thanks to you,_ he wanted to add bitterly.

“That’s good. I only want you to be happy.”  
“And I, you.”

The next thing that happened almost knocked Cullen right off the boulder. Naya pounced on him, landing in his lap, crashing her lips against his. He tried to pull her off of him, but she was much stronger than she looked. Naya kept her hands on the back of his neck, forcing him to stay where he was. He tasted her tongue in his mouth – she was sweet, like he had always thought she would be. He began to kiss her back, one of his hands creeping toward her breast, but another voice in his head stirred him. A voice humming to him, as fingers tangled through his hair.

Cullen stood up, knocking the little elf back onto the boulder. “Inquisitor, I don’t understand. You made it quite clear to me that you – did not want me.”  
“I was wrong. Make love to me, Cullen.”  
“What has changed? Why – what about Solas? He loves you, Samira.”  
“But you loved me too, what happened?”

Cullen wiped his hand with the back of his glove, removing her kiss from his lips. “I do still love you, Naya, but as my friend, as my Inquisitor, as the Herald of Andraste, I love your _goodness_ and your strength and your courage.”

Naya’s face crumpled. “Why won’t you just say it, it’s because you’ve been _fucking the_ _bard_ haven’t you?”

Cullen swallowed and looked away. “My affairs are my own. I am entitled to my privacy. I am allowed to have a life outside of the Inquisition – what did you want from me, Naya? To stand at your side while you married another, bore his children, slept in his bed at night?”

Naya grew very still, her voice small and determined. “I could send her away, you know. When she gets back from Val Royeaux. I could tell her she’s no longer needed here.”

She watched the steadfast Commander stand up straighter. “You wouldn’t dare. You are not cruel, you are kindness and light. All of this talk – it isn’t you.”

“I could do it. I could take her away from you to punish you. What would you do then?”

Cullen’s heart thudded under his armor. The Inquisition had given him a second chance at life, it felt good to be in charge, to be looked up to and respected. But to have to stay in Skyhold while he watched Sam pass through their gates to never come back? He would rather follow her.

“I would leave with her. And you would be stuck here, working with people who would wonder why you did what you did. It is possible quite a few of them would leave with me too.”

Naya looked tormented. She knew Cassandra would leave with him, and then probably Varric. And then if Varric left, Sera might be tempted to go. Dorian was Samira’s favorite, and if Dorian left, then Iron Bull and the Chargers would go too. She knew if she tugged on this piece of her organization, most of it would fall as well.

Tears tumbled out of Naya’s eyes now. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m so confused, please forgive me, Cullen. Please.”

He stepped closer, offering her hand, always the knight. “Let us get back to work. It is important work, and everyone needs you. We should focus on that, and not – all of this.”

They made their way back to their horses, Naya’s heart heavy because she didn’t get what she wanted, and also because she knew she had been desperate and wrong. She loved Samira as much as everyone else did, what was she thinking?

Cullen helped her up on to her horse and she looked down at him. He was so masculine and handsome, capable and sure. He quirked a small smile at her as he patted her on her ankle. “To work?”

Naya felt that heat rise inside of her again. She still wanted him. She realized it might take more than jumping into his lap – and she was prepared to wait.


	8. Chapter 8

In Val Royeaux, Sam was enjoying her work with Vivienne more than she thought she would. She was getting a taste of a life she had only seen glimpses of. She trailed behind Vivienne as they entered shop after shop, running her hands over fabrics she could never afford, peering into cases looking at jewels resting on soft velvet, nibbling on the tiniest tea cakes presented to her on silver platters. They had squared away the details for the food for their banquet, and were now moving on to getting dresses and suits made for the Inquisition inner circle.

Vivenne pulled her into yet another shop. “My darling, I have had a vision for how you will look when you perform. Black lace, from head to toe, very tight, very see-through, in all the right places, crowned with a headpiece made of brilliant peacock feathers. And for your first number, for your big entrance, you will drop down from above the stage, swinging on a little swing, as though you were a bird in a cage.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Madame de Fer, that is very – cabaret. Very theatrical.”  
“You can pull it off. Your beauty and your voice will enchant the entire court and every noble in the house. And perhaps – you will finally find your patron.”

Vivienne consulted with the shop owner, looking at bolts of intricate lace, leaving Sam to her thoughts for a moment. She hadn’t obsessed about her dream of a rich patron and benefactor for quite some time, and now that it was seeming more probable, she wanted it even less. She wanted only Cullen. Sam had caught herself having embarrassing, rather domestic thoughts about the Commander and what it would feel like to be his wife, claiming him permanently. She had begun weaving a new dream – after this war was over, she could be a music teacher to the children of nobles. Cullen could have his choice of working the land or lending his sword to another cause. Would he settle for being a local constable, if it meant being together forever? Was it too far beneath him to -

Vivienne interrupted her thoughts. “Sam, do get undressed, we want to see exactly how see-through this one is.”

After a long day of shopping, Vivienne and Sam retired to their borrowed villa for a sumptuous dinner. Sam was not accustomed to putting on a gown before eating but she did everything Vivienne ordered her to do, eager to please and better her manners. During their meal, Sam decided she could maybe ask the imperious woman for a little advice.

“Lady Vivienne, do you mind if I ask – is it, appropriate for me, to – is it… is it wrong for Cullen and I to be doing what we are doing? Do people feel that I am compromising him in his duties?”

Vivienne handed her some buttered carrots in a dish. “Nonsense dear, it’s very romantic. And the Commander is so much nicer since you’ve – taken him under _your_ patronage.”

“But. We could never be open about it, could we?”  
“Oh who cares. Look at Dorian and Iron Bull. Utterly silly, a Qun and a noble mage. Whoever heard of such a thing.”

“But – “  
“What are you so afraid of, Samira?”

Sam took a sip of her wine. “I’m afraid I’m ruining something he was building before he even met me. And I too wanted other things before I met him.”

“Well, don’t agonize over it too much. We have a very big party to plan, and you are the star attraction. The bigger question right now is – what are you going to sing? You should sing something for Cullen, something that only he will know is for him.”

Samira smiled at her. “You are so wise, Madame de Fer.”

The next few days Sam and Vivienne split up, each of them taking an Inquisition soldier with them for protection, Sam staying hidden behind a big Orlesian mask. Sam assembled a small team of musicians from her old friends in the capital – Eduoard Chavez played a guitar with steel strings, when enchanted, it made a completely different sound. Devin Cupps could play a huge upright bass, giving songs a rich and deeper backbone. It took Sam some wrangling to get Hollie Anderton out of her patron’s house. Hollie was one of Sam’s oldest musician friends, and now lived as the bard (no, mistress) to an Orlesian duke, but she was very pretty and talented enough to be her back-up singer for the night.

“Come on, Hollie. We will leave for Skyhold as soon as possible, rehearse for a week, put on our little show, and you’ll be back to warming the duke’s bed in seven days.”

Hollie looked amazing. Living a life of utter decadence – even if you weren’t the duchess – was good to her. “I believe it will be easier for all involved if you extended an invite to my Lord – and Lady Belcourt. He doesn’t like to let me out of his sight, and the old crone does love a party.”

Sam added her request to her list of things to do before returning to Skyhold. She blushed when she saw one of the items – _lacy underthings._ She better not forget that one.

___

Vivienne and Sam may have left in one carriage, but they came back to Skyhold with Sam’s new band in a second rented carriage and two mule-driven wagons full of their shopping – with more to arrive every day. The fortress was already buzzing with preparations as Sam found rooms for her friends, making plans to rehearse every day with them, a handful of new songs tucked into her belongings. She dragged her trunk to her room and swung open the door – after two weeks living in luxury with Vivienne her room felt like a nun’s cell. Except for the gorgeous general currently sprawled out across her bed, his boots propped up on the footboard.

“Disappointed you did not seek me out immediately, bard. If you were one of my truant soldiers, I’d have to punish you for your disobedience.”

Sam landed on top of him with a delighted giggle. She pressed her lips to his and he felt alive again. She pulled back, sitting in his lap. “Did I miss anything while I was away?”

Sam studied her lover’s face, so glad to see him again, but she saw a little doubt – and a little guilt – pass before his eyes. “Cullen, are you alright?”

“It’s nothing, my love – nothing I want to trouble you about since I know you should be worrying about your big show.”

She ran her fingers over his lips. “I have a surprise for you. I found a new song I will sing, and only you will know it’s about you. It’s my secret gift to you.”

“What about – the other secret gifts you promised me?”

She took his hands and slid them down her body to her hips, where he felt the two telltale ridges of her new lingerie.

“Oh Maker. You. Me. Your lingerie. Your quarters. Tonight. Right?”  
“As you wish, Commander.”

She dipped down to kiss him again, deeper and more passionate than before. He felt his manhood stirring under the heat of her, but she broke the kiss.

“I’m sorry, Cullen. I feel I should confess something. Vivienne took me around in Val Royeaux – under my mask of course. I met two men who wanted to be my patron.”

Cullen stiffened. “You did? And – what did you tell them?”  
“I told them no. I told them I already had a lord waiting for me back in Skyhold.”

Cullen looked even more anguished. “Wait, who? That great big ponce, the Duke of Levesque? The one who lisps and drools all over you whenever he gets a chance?”

Sam rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove. “No, you, you stupid man. You are my lord. You know I don’t care about the paperwork. I dub thee Ser Rutherford of My Lacy Underthings.”

Cullen grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to the palm, before placing it lower on his body. “And you are Lady Blackmyre, Queen of My Heart, and My C-“

The door swung open before he could finish his dirty thought. Leliana stood on the other side of the door, arms crossed.

“Cullen, we have council in a quarter of an hour.”

Cullen sat up, looking like a sullen teenager. “I know, I wasn’t going to forget.” He stood up, composing himself before leaving, but not without giving her a saucy wink.

Cullen and the Spymaster walked together back toward the main part of the castle. Leliana didn’t look at her old friend as she spoke. “Did you tell her about Naya?”  
“No, I – feel terrible. She confessed to me that had two chances to leave us for rich patrons – and yet I could not tell her about how the Inquisitor – “

Cullen couldn’t even finish the sentence. They were heading through the main hall now, where new Inquisition banners were hung and a sumptuous red carpet was being unrolled toward where a stage would be erected for Sam and her band.

The two paused before entering the war room. Cullen whispered to her, a little desperate - “I don’t know what we should do, should we – tell Solas?”

Leliana’s clever brain processed the many ins and outs of this possible plan. “No, let’s just hope she keeps her hands to herself until this accursed party is done. Then we will think of something.”

Cullen opened the door for Leliana and the two were treated to the sight of Naya fluffing up her hair and licking her lips. “Hello Cullen!” she chirped and the Spymaster rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Naya. He’s not that great,” she said before closing the door behind them.

Their tedious meeting crawled on, with Josie always arguing for diplomacy and honeyed words while Leliana pushed to just skewer everyone in their way. Cullen was signing off on some requisitions reports, not realizing Naya had been studying him during his work. She was still very much fixated on bedding Cullen and she realized while she could not blackmail him into choosing her – she could also simply remove the obstacle in her way. She could find a way to make Samira leave of her own accord. The distraction of the party could very well help her.

___

The night of the Inquisition’s first major ball arrived on a cool, clear night. Nobles poured through the gates, herded toward the huge banquet tables in the main hall.

Cullen was fussing over his hair in his quarters, trying to smooth down his unruly curls. He hated his formal suit, covered in pointless army medals to denote his importance, with its regimental buttons cascading up and down the black velvet coat making him feel like a toy soldier. He had heard Josie and Leliana tittering away about what the Inquisitor was going to wear – and how tricky it might be if and when _Samira’s_ dress outshone her. He was a grown man with butterflies in his stomach thinking about what his lover was going to wear tonight – and how he was going to get it off her later.

A messenger knocked on his door. “Mistress Blackmyre says she needs your help with something, in her quarters, as soon as possible, Ser.”

Cullen flushed. Samira had been very stern about him not taking up too much of her time as she prepared for the biggest show of her life, but perhaps she was looking for – a quick interlude.

He had to force himself not to _sprint_ through the courtyard.

Cullen got to her door and smoothed himself down a little, catching his breath, before pushing it open. Standing there in the middle of her small room was the Inquisitor – in a tight, glimmering white dress made of something that sparkled every time she moved. A crown of jeweled leaves and flowers twinkled on her head and she turned toward him with a confident smile.

“Hello, Commander.”  
“Oh, Naya, you – look absolutely stunning.”

He bowed over the hand she offered him, and while he was so close, she took the liberty of sweeping that hand along his jaw. “And you are so handsome tonight, Commander.”

Cullen took a quick step back from her touch, seeing the aggressive hunger in her eyes. “Samira told me she needed help with something, I wonder where she is.”

What he didn’t know was Samira was “backstage” with her band, discussing their set list, when a different messenger approached her, pulling her away. She had a cute twinkle in her eye. “The Commander wishes to see you in your room – and wish you luck, Sam.”

Sam also had to force herself to not sprint through the courtyard. She skirted the crowds heading toward the great hall and turned the corner to her room. She opened the door to her room, expecting to see Cullen perhaps lying in her bed with a red ribbon tied around his cock, but what she saw would remove all hopes of that.

Cullen was pressed up against her desk, one hand pushing on Naya’s ivory shoulder, the other one braced on the desk. Naya had his breeches down around his thighs, and had both her hands wrapped around his manhood. Samira staggered back with a gasp.

One of Cullen’s hands shot out toward her, the other one pulling his breeches up. “Samira, it’s not what it looks like! Please!”

Sam blinked her eyes a few times – the devastated, vacant look on her face hit Naya like a punch to the gut and in an instant she knew she had gone too far. In a small voice, Sam spoke, “I must get ready. I’m not even dressed yet. Will you excuse me.”

Cullen got his pants up and tried to reach out for her. She jerked away from him, a look of total disgust on her face and each one of her next words landed like a bludgeon.

_“It was a mistake for me to come to Skyhold, and a mistake to have stayed. But it was definitely a mistake to have ever loved you.”_

Sam turned and walked away.

Cullen spun around to look at Naya.  “She will never forgive me – nor I, you.”  
“Cullen, please – I did it because I love you.”

Before he could chase Samira, he turned with somber eyes. “You don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t have done any of this.”

Naya sat down on Sam’s bed, truly defeated.

It didn’t take him long to catch up to her but Sam did not slow her pace nor stop to talk to him. “Samira, please, you know I would never, ever, ever do that to you. She arranged that, she wanted you to see us like that.”

Sam said nothing, did not look at him. “Something happened, I don’t know what it is, but Naya’s gone a little mad lately – I considered telling Solas, but – “

She cut him off but again did not stop walking. “I do not care, Ser. After I finish this performance, I am leaving. I will leave with _any_ man who will have me tonight.”

The words glued Cullen to the spot. He did not chase her further, he knew despite all of the utter trash they had just flung in her face, she had to get ready for her gig. He surrendered, it was time to join the other Inquisition advisors at the party.

____

Cullen felt broken on the inside as he picked his way through the party, looking for Leliana and Josephine – who both looked like they had news for him.

“Cullen, you must promise both of us you will not try to murder Chauveau when you see him tonight.”  
“Wait, I’m sorry – the Comte du Chauveau is _here_ tonight? How? Why? Did _NAYA_ arrange this?”

Josie fretted, smoothing out the ruffles on her new ball gown. “As far as we know, he came in Empress Celene’s retinue. And why do you think Naya has something to do with this?”

Cullen cleared his throat, glancing at Leliana. “We didn’t know if we should tell you Josie, but, the Inquisitor has been throwing herself at me as of late. I suppose she did not take it well when I transferred my affections to Samira.”

Cullen now ushered the women farther away from some nearby aristocrats. “And I must tell you both – she tried to seduce me again tonight, and arranged for Sam to see it all. Our bard is no longer speaking to me – and probably never will again.”

Leliana touched his arm in sympathy, “Oh Cullen, we do not know that yet.”

Cullen looked over her shoulder to where the Inquisitor and Solas were making a grand entrance. Naya didn’t look like she had just destroyed a happy relationship. She was glowing and charming everyone. Cullen put his hand over Leliana’s hand on his arm. “Will you please tell Sam to wear a mask tonight so Chauveau does not recognize her? Please do not mention it was my suggestion – and tell her not to worry, the man is being watched very carefully.”

The Spymaster nodded and left, while Josie fretted about what was going on. “Cullen, how are we going to fix this?”

“We don’t have to fix anything – Naya should. And she knows it. The question is whether she has the conscience to want to fix this.” Cullen watched her smile sweetly at Solas, as the elf handed her a glass of champagne.  
 

___

  
The dinner dragged on for Cullen. He knew not too far away Sam was getting ready - and cursing his name, regretting everything they had done together. But the idea of losing her did not utterly shatter him like it would another man. Cullen had experienced too many bad things in his life and the bitter words that Sam had thrown at him only felt like a validation that he did not deserve to ever have anything good. He was destined to be miserable until he died upon the battlefield, alone and unloved. He just had to survive the evening and later tonight, in the privacy of his own chambers, he would consider having a wee bit of a breakdown.

There was only one thing Cullen truly focused on, Chauveau’s voice a table away and over his shoulder. Even if Sam never looked at him again, Cullen was determined to protect her from this shark. The sound of his brittle laughter kept him alert and from drinking too much.

Dessert was being cleared and now everyone turned their attention to the stage at the front of the hall. Josephine stepped into a special spotlight, rigged up by one of their clever mages, and addressed the crowd by speaking into a crystal rune attached to a stand, her voice amplified by magic.

“And now, as a gift to you, Empress Celene, and our new friends, the Inquisition is proud to present: The Songbird of Skyhold – and her Crooning Crows.”

The velvet curtains parted, revealing Samira’s band, everyone dressed in black. Her sweet, enchanting voice filled the hall before they could see her.

  
_“Stars shining bright above you – night breezes seem to whisper, I love you_  
_Birds singing in the sycamore trees – dream a little dream of me…”_

In a graceful arc, Samira swooped down from her hiding place, sitting on a gilded swing – making the crowd gasp and ooh and ahh and clap spontaneously at her theatrical entrance. She wore a headdress of impossibly colored bird feathers, her dress had a train that fluttered as she swung, and a simple black velvet mask covered half of her face. She looked like the most exotic bird Cullen had ever seen, utterly beautiful and bewitching.

As she continued with the song, she slowed the momentum of the swing until she could dismount gracefully with two steps. When she stepped into the spotlight, Cullen’s heart clenched. Sam was covered from head to toe in tight black lace, parts of it more see-through than others. Her lips were painted ruby red, and her shiny raven locks hung in loose curls down her back. She crooned the last lines of the song, her eyes closed and hands outstretched:

_“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you - sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you  
And in your dreams whatever they be - dream a little dream of me.”_

The applause that followed was deafening. Sam bowed and curtsied with her graceful court manners. When she spoke into the rune so they could all hear her, she spoke in perfect Orlesian. _“I thank you all for coming tonight. It is so lovely to see you.”_

This delighted Empress Celene, who clapped along with her three ladies in waiting. Cullen prayed she would look down at him, he was in the front row, four seats over from Naya, but she focused on the guests in the rest of the hall.

“Unfortunately, I have been asked to sing a few more traditional songs, I know, so disappointing. I hope I can breathe life into these old tunes for you – please enjoy.”

She sang Empress of Fire for them, a fun Orlesian drinking song everyone always loved, a very sad ballad called Shred of Blue and then the Dalish lullaby that had charmed Naya so long ago. Tonight it moved the Inquisitor much more than it usually did, but Cullen could not be sure she was play-acting or actually wracked with guilt.

After a while, Cullen lost track of what she was singing. He was too wrapped up in what could be his last moments with her. He memorized the shape of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, the exact location of her beauty mark at the corner of her lip. He savored the sound of her voice, marveled at her well-timed gestures, prayed for her to wink at him or give him any sign at all that he was more special than this room full of aristo wankers.

Cullen was ready to give up on his fervent wishes when he heard Sam launch into the terrible Orlesian song she had once sang for him in her room, the one that made him laugh. This time she trilled away, harmonizing with her beautiful blonde backup singer, Hollie, the two of them standing side by side as they showed off their vocal capabilities. And when the song was over, they did something that would be burned into Cullen’s erotic memories for the rest of his life: Sam and Hollie turned to kiss each other – a little peck that slowly turned into a deeper kiss, marking each other with lipstick. They pulled away from each other – and then with playful smiles, went in for another taste.

The crowd went – absolutely wild. Judging by the shape his knees were in, Cullen was very glad he had been seated for that particular spectacle. He shared a glance with Leliana – who mouthed the word _wow_ at him, blushing like a maiden. Cullen hadn’t seen Leliana do that – ever?

Samira waited for the applause to die down before she spoke again. “I know we’re having a wonderful time tonight, but this is our last number -“

She was interrupted by a great wave of disappointed sounds but she continued. “We have enjoyed playing for you as much as we hoped you enjoyed listening. Perhaps our paths will cross again – after we have defeated our enemies, and the world is safe for song again.”

Samira gave a little bow of her head toward Naya, who returned the gesture to her, looking very guilt-ridden now.

“A round of applause for my band if you please – that’s Edouard on the enchanted steel-string guitar, Devin on the upright bass, and my beautiful backup singer Hollie, also playing the bodhrán. Here’s our last song, I had something else in mind to sing for you – but life has a strange way of guiding you in a new direction and some songs are just perfect for the moment.”

Edouard played a sweet, sad riff on his guitar, and then Samira poured her heart into this one:

 _Crazy, I'm crazy for feeling so lonely_  
_I'm crazy, crazy for feeling so blue_  
_I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted_  
_And then someday you'd leave me for somebody new_

 _Worry, why do I let myself worry?_  
_Wond'ring what in the world did I do?_  
_Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you_  
_I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying_  
_And I'm crazy for loving you_

  
Every word of the song felt like a piercing arrow aimed right at him – but it was pain mixed with pleasure, her voice had never sounded so crystal clear, so perfect and unflawed. Cullen felt like he was both soaring and falling. He sent another prayer to the Maker, if only there was some way to capture her voice so even after she left him, he would always have this song and this moment.

Cullen was the first one on his feet to applaud her as the heavy curtains fell in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, Samira sounds like Mama Cass and/or Patsy Cline. Look these ladies up if you don't know them!
> 
> Patsy Cline - Crazy (lyrics by Willie Nelson, by the way)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=na5Y9FxR0lg
> 
> Mama Cass Elliot - Dream a Little Dream of Me  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWZfKcYlefE


	9. Chapter 9

The Empress Celene herself had offered Samira patronage. She could come and live in the Winter Palace, with the other two court bards. And she wasn’t the only one to want Sam for their own – an ultra-rich merchant from Denerim, a simpering duke from Treviso, even a bloody Rivaini prince had queued up to court her and woo her away from Skyhold. Dorian stayed at her side, functioning as her chaperone of sorts, making sure nobody got too effusive – or touchy-feely. Samira walked back to her room after her big show feeling fuzzy-headed and numb. All of these offers seemed to come with big strings attached. She would probably have to lay with them in order to not get thrown out on the streets.

Sam took a deep inhale to calm herself. The matter was serious enough to need to sleep on it, but she was determined to leave – until she unlocked her door.

Her entrance had startled Cullen in his work – he had been filling her room with long-stemmed red roses, they covered every possible surface, there were petals completely concealing the blanket and pillows on her bed, huge red blooms in glass vases cramming corners of the floor too. There were so many roses the air was thick with their romantic smell. He turned around still holding one of the blooms, a few pricks and cuts on his hands from all the thorns, his regimental jacket half unbuttoned as he worked.

“I-I’m sorry, Samira, I’ll leave, it’s just – “

He gestured toward a bucket on the nightstand next to her bed, full of ice and holding a bottle of champagne.

“I had planned all of this already, and it seemed like a waste not to give it to you. _This_ part of the evening was prepared, not – the other nonsense you saw earlier. But I will go now.”

He headed toward the doorway, stopping near her, his eyes downcast. Cullen held out the rose in his hand, his voice shy and low as he repeated the words she had said to him after he had sang in the Herald’s Rest:

_“You did such a lovely job tonight, I thought I’d show my appreciation. I’m a – really big fan of your work.”_

Sam looked down at the perfect rose in her hands, the tears welling up in her eyes. No man had ever given her a gift that wasn’t a coin thrown into her upturned hat. They had bought her drinks, whispered dirty things to her in dark corners in countless taverns, but not a single item of any sort had ever been laid at her feet like Cullen’s gift.

Samira’s arm shot out, blocking his exit.

“Wait.”

Cullen’s exhale was ragged, full of anticipation.

“I’ll have you know I had four offers of patronage tonight, one from the Empress Celene herself.”  
  
“I figured you would,” he murmured, his words dipped in heartbreak. “You should go. I want you to be happy, and well-taken care of. I have nothing to offer you. You deserve to live in a palace – you are a queen, Samira.” He raised a tentative finger, sweeping it down her jaw.

At this, Samira broke down in wracking sobs. She pulled off her headdress and little velvet mask, flinging them in a corner. “Why? Why did the Maker bring me here? You have been my undoing, Ser.”

Cullen swept her up in his arms, holding her close, shushing her, planting kisses on her forehead. She sobbed onto his jacket, still holding the rose he had handed her. He scooped her up easily and put her down on the edge of her rose-petal covered bed.

“You should rest now, you’re over tired, you’ve had a long day.” He was down on one knee before her now, brushing away the hair from her face. Sam grabbed his hand, looking at the palm.

“Cullen, you’re bleeding.”  
“It’s nothing. They promised me the roses would have no thorns but a plenty of them still had ‘em. Sharp little buggers.”

She took his other hand and turned it over, he had abrasions on that one too. She gave him a little pout of disapproval – before she started kissing the little cuts on his hands. Cullen gasped at the sweet gesture, he had truly believed she would never touch him again. She cradled his hands in hers and he felt the calluses she had earned from years of playing stringed instruments.

He purred her name at her, the way she always liked it. “ _Samira…”_

Sam’s lips were on his now, kissing him deeply. Cullen took a hand and wound her hair around his fist, once and then twice, holding her there in place, willing her to kiss him forever if such a thing was possible. She was the one to pull away, standing up before him and turning around, offering him her back.

“You have to help me.”

Cullen darted to his feet, fumbling with the tiny clasps that held her dress together. Cullen swore to himself, getting more and more impatient.

“Don’t you dare tear this dress, Cullen. Lady Vivienne will have your head on a pike in the courtyard.”  
“Can’t I just tear it a little?”  
“You’re almost there, my lion…why don’t you open the champagne, I think I can manage the rest.”

His hands parted the back of her gown before turning his attention to the bottle of wine. Another thing to fumble with, he whinged to himself as he struggled with the wire cage around the bottle’s cork. He finally got the thing off and turned to show Sam in triumph – but what he saw silenced him, his jaw falling open.

Samira had peeled off her tight lace dress. Now she was wearing a black satin corset that nipped in her waistline and cupped her breasts, pushing them up into enticing mounds of tan flesh. Cullen’s eyes travelled down her body to the little straps holding up her black silk stockings and the black see-through underwear below.

Sam’s smile faded from her face when Cullen said nothing of her ensemble. “Do you not like it?”

She turned around for him, showing him the back of the corset – and the thin strip of satin that disappeared between the cheeks of her ample, perfect bottom.

The cork came popping off the bottle of its own volition, hitting the ceiling before it landed amongst some roses in the corner. She turned around to face him again, still puzzled.

“Why won’t you say anything, Ser?”  
“You must give me a moment to compose myself, Samira. A man doesn’t look upon such a sight very often in his life.”

She took the bottle from him with a content, sultry grin and poured out two glasses for them. He raised his glass to hers to raise a toast: “To the woman who fashioned such an outfit for my benefit, and the woman who is currently wearing it.”

Cullen downed his glass while Sam took a demure, ladylike sip – but he could wait no longer. He took the two glasses and tossed them away, his eyes full of longing and hunger. Sam squeaked a little as the glass shattered against the wall.

“I wanted to finish that.”  
“I don’t have time for you to finish that. I want you to fuck you, in this corset, right now.”

Cullen put both of his hands on her tight little waistline, dropping kisses all over the tops of her breasts.  

“I can’t believe you were wearing this all night long. While you were onstage, singing – this was underneath.” He continued trailing his hands all over her body, encased in silk and satin.

_“Because of what happened earlier, I considered showing it to another man.”_

He pulled back at her teasing words, his hands still around her waist but anger and jealousy adding to the lust in his eyes.

“Cullen, I was just teasing, I wasn’t –“

With an easy display of strength, he picked her up and sat them both down on the bed, with Sam now over his knee. With one hand he pulled her hair tightly, and with the other, he gave her a good hard spank on her right bottom.

“Cullen!”  
“ _How dare you_ come to me wrapped up like a present and then tell me you were going to give yourself to someone else.”

He smacked her again, making her squeal, and then followed up the blow with sweet, gentle caresses.

“What were you going to do with – this man? Were you going to suck his cock?”  
“Yes…”

He spanked her on the left cheek, making her squeal again –making sure to soothe where he had hit her.

“Would you let him eat your pussy? He’d be absolutely no good at it, the Orlesian bastard –“

He spanked her a few more times, enjoying the sound of her shocked gasps followed by her aroused moans as he massaged the red marks with his callused hand.

“Cullen, please – you’re hurting me.”

With one excited finger, he traced the satin strap of her tiny smalls to her womanhood. “You’re soaking wet, Blackmyre, you love this.”

He continued spanking her, alternating the smacks with soft caresses, keeping one hand always pulling her hair until she was a squirming mess on his knee. Once again she thought she would be in charge of their love making but he was dominating her, pushing her into new territory.

Cullen’s voice dropped even lower. “Maybe I was wrong in thinking you were going to give yourself to another man. Maybe you were going to Hollie’s room…”

Sam whimpered as Cullen began peeling her tiny, tiny smalls down her legs. Once he had cast them aside, he began playing with her swollen clit, making her groan.

“Maybe this is what you and Hollie would be getting up to right now. I loved watching you kiss her, Samira. You made me so hard I could hardly stand up to applaud you.”

He slid two fingers into her, deep. “You are so ready for her, Samira, you wanton slut. My slut. Are you a slut for me, Samira?”

She could barely speak as he removed his finger and went back to flicking at her center of her pleasure. “Well, Blackmyre, are you my slut? If you don’t answer, I shall – “

He withdrew his hand, leaving her pussy pulsing with need. She slid off his knees, landing in a quivering pile at his feet. Sam brushed the hair from her eyes and looked up at him sitting on the edge of the bed, glowering at her, his arms crossed.

“You are too cruel, Ser.”  
“Answer the question.”

Samira sat up and positioned herself between his legs, working quickly to free his bulging cock from his formal breeches.  She rewarded him with one long lick, from the base of his shaft to the tip of his head.

“I am your slut, Commander. I would do anything for you.”

She waited for that delicious grin to tug at the scar at his lip before she spoke again. “I also like your silly jacket with all the buttons.”

He fell back on the bed, laughing – until she took him in her mouth again, making him gasp with pleasure. He began to wriggle out of that damned jacket, stripping off the button down shirt and cravat underneath. Sam stopped to help him out of his pants too. Cullen scrambled back further on the bed, pushing rose petals everywhere, as she crawled toward him. Biting her lip in anticipation, she flung a leg over him, positioned over his twitching cock. She sunk on to him until they were completely joined together.

Cullen kept his hands on her hips, gripping the satin, enjoying the feel of it under his fingers. He had many chances in his life when he felt very masculine, and very male – ordering his men about, demanding their discipline and devotion, a sword at his side every day – but Samira in this black corset was making him feel more of a man than he ever had before. He thrust up into her as she placed her hands over his.

“Next time, I shall tie you up, bard, until you orgasm five times in a row.”   
“Is that a threat?”  
“More like a promise.”

He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples in the tight fabric. “My only criticism of this – incredible garment – is that I cannot see your voluptuous tits, Samira.”

He pumped into her hard, making her shut her eyes in pleasure. “Next time I am in Val Royeaux – I can have one made that will leave them – out, for your inspection.”

The idea of this – coupled with the idea of fucking her a thousand more times in a thousand different pieces of lingerie – pushed Cullen right over the edge and he grunted as he emptied himself into her. When he opened his eyes, Samira was giving him a look of total disapproval.

“Really?”  
“Sam, I’m sorry, I guess I was a little worked up.”  
“That’s never happened before. And it’s enough to make me NOT want to buy anymore fancy underthings for you ever again!”  
“Now _that_ is a threat.”

She dismounted him and fell next to him on the bed with a little huff but Cullen was not through with her yet. He pushed her up to sitting, beginning to unfasten all the ties on the back of her corset.

“As much as I like it, let’s get you out of this thing. How did you even sing in it?”  
“It’s all about breath control, my love.”

She undid the garter straps and Cullen pulled the corset away from her. He made a sympathetic noise as he saw the little red marks on her back where the garment had been pulled tight. Cullen rained kisses on those marks, making Sam sigh.

He laid her down on the bed again, positioning himself between her knees – but Sam pushed herself up on her elbows with alarm on her face

“But Cullen – you…finished in me already.”  
“So?”  
“So if you – are down there, you will…”

Sam was almost comically worried about this. Cullen opened her folds and lapped at her pearl. “Sam, do you truly think I care?”

Cullen was determined to make up for his quick release earlier. He slid two fingers into her and worked them in and out, as his tongue lunged, feinted and flicked against her. She was beginning to squirm, he had to hold onto her hips to continue his work.

Out of nowhere, Cullen remembered some of the more _instructive_ things Dorian had told him not too long ago. He took a glimpse at Sam in a wanton state of abandon and decided tonight was the night he might attempt – a new move.

Cullen’s wetted his ring finger inside of her, and then pressed it against Sam’s other entrance, simply testing it first. She gasped, pulling herself up to her elbows. “Cullen!”  
“Trust me, Samira. Relax. I will go slowly.”

She bit her lip in that way that always made him want to thoroughly ravage her as she laid back on the rose petals on her bed.

Cullen kept pleasuring her with his mouth, kept fucking her with two fingers, and working the third one into her ass as subtly as possible. Samira was chanting his name now as she got closer to the precipice. Cullen pressed his mouth hard against her clit and flicked her harder, pushing the three fingers into her, filling her up. Samira slammed her hands onto her sheets, swearing loud, finally coming undone, flooding Cullen’s mouth with even more of her wetness.

He gave one of her thighs a peck, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawled up to her side, enfolding her in his arms.

“How was that?”  
“An epic performance. I look forward to the encore.”

Cullen ran his fingers over her face, delighting in the color he had brought to her cheeks, proud of the sweat on her brow.

“Do you love me, Samira?”  
“Yes, you silly fool.”  
“Can I stay here tonight?”  
“I want you to.”  
“And you promise to not sneak out on me?”  
“I promise. And now may I ask a few questions of my own? What’s…what’s going to happen to us, Cullen? May we be open with our relationship?”  
“Samira, I promise you I am not hiding you from anyone, I just prefer a little privacy. I do not need my foot soldiers asking me how hard I just made the bard come with only three of my fingers.”

She blushed at this.

“Alright, fair enough, but how about what happens after the Inquisition finishes off this Elder One monster? Would they still need you? Would you stay? Could we – leave together?”

“If they still need me, I would stay. And I would ask you to stay too. People always need song and entertainment, Samira. And if you are ever tired of singing, Josephine or Leliana could put you to work. But I would hate for that to be true. I love your voice, Sam.”

He wove his fingers between hers. Samira was not satisfied though. “And what if they didn’t need you any longer? Would you – be alright with a simpler life with me?”

Cullen drew Samira closer to him, kissing her deeply. “I almost lost you today, Samira. We will never be parted again. And I would go anywhere you asked me to go.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought you deserved an all-smut chapter. Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some violence/torture and discussion of torture in this chapter, it is not very strong but it is in there. Just a warning.

Naya woke up the next morning feeling a strange mixture of triumph and guilt. The party was a complete success – but her machinations with Cullen not so much. She was on her way to the war room wondering exactly how much she had fucked up when she heard Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen’s voices growing louder and more frantic.

She pushed open the door to find Cullen still in his dress clothes from the night before, looking rumpled, his hair disheveled. Leliana and Josephine looked very worried as they tried to talk him down about something.

“What is going on?”  
“You!” Cullen strode up to her, pushing her against the door roughly. It made all the women gasp.

“Cullen, control yourself!”  
“Where IS she, Lavellan? What have you done now?”

Naya blinked in total innocence, holding onto his wrists, attempting to push him back. “I only woke up at 10 bells, what are you on about?”

“Where. Is. Samira? What have you done with her? She’s missing!”

He studied her face, looking for subterfuge but found none in her eyes. “Cullen, I promise you – I had nothing to do with this.”

“Let us try to put the pieces together before we begin accusing each other, Cullen,” Leliana said in a soothing voice.

Cullen released Naya from his grip, sitting down on a chair in the corner, his head in his hands.

“We were _together_ last night and – normally when we are together, she sneaks away in the night to not scandalize _the bloody lot of you_. But last night we were in her room, and she promised me she would not do that. She must have gotten up in the middle of the night, or maybe early in the morning… and now she is _fucking missing_. I have looked all over Skyhold, no one has seen her since last night.”

Leliana scowled with bitterness. “Some lords and ladies left this morning, we are trying to figure out who may have departed.”

“It is my fault – we should have vetted that guest list a fifth time, but I was too distracted,” Josie said as she twisted the quill in her hands.

“No, it is _my_ fault,” Naya whispered. Cullen’s head jerked toward her, his eyes full of anger. “I wished for this to happen. I wished for her to disappear so you would love me again, and now it’s somehow happened. I made it happen. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.”

Naya began to sob, the guilt pouring out of her. She felt Cullen’s hands on her shoulders again, this time more gentle.

“Swear to me you had nothing to do with this.”  
“I had nothing to do with it, Cullen, I swear to my gods and Andraste as well.”

He let her go, running a hand through his hair. One of Leliana’s agents burst into the room.

“Your suspicions were right, Spymaster. Chauveau escaped in the middle of the night, he even left his _wife_ and her ladies in waiting behind. She’s more than a little distraught at the moment.”

Leliana sent the runner off with another task. “Someone needs to ask her where she thinks they may have gone. I doubt he would have returned home with her – but perhaps they have a summer villa somewhere else in Orlais.”

Cullen punched the heavy door, hard enough to make everyone jump. “I thought the man was supposed to be watched closely while he was here in Skyhold?”

Leliana squeezed a fist hard until her knuckled cracked. “The two agents tasked to watching him were a little wrapped up in the party atmosphere themselves. Trust me, I will catch up to them for their negligence.”

Naya put a hand on his arm and Cullen had to resist the urge to yank it away. “Cullen, I am coming with you. I will make this right. We will find Samira – and you cannot go alone.”

The sudden sound of Cole’s voice startled everyone as he appeared in a corner of the council room. “I am sorry, I did not hear what happened last night. You were – it sounded like you would have been mad had I been listening.”

Cullen smiled a little to himself, although it was a weary, anxious smile. “Thank you, Cole. But do you know what happened?”

“She felt safe and protected – she thought of the future more than of the present. And then there was nothing. Darkness. Gone. Him. Why is he here? Him again. Anyone but _him.”_

_ _ _

By 12 bells, Cullen and Naya’s horses were saddled in the courtyard. Chauveau’s wife gave them directions to their summer villa outside of Val Royeaux, hidden away in the forest along a lake. In her weepy state she advised them, “Do not storm up to the gates – he is a wretched mess of a man. You would not want to provoke him into hurting her further. And trust me – he has hurt her by now.”

The words chilled Cullen to the bone, he wanted to leave right away – but he had some interruptions in the courtyard.

“And where do you think you’re going without me, eh?” Sera was stomping up to Naya and Cullen, bow and quiver at her back. “I used to take proper care of Birdie until you came along, Commander Tightpants. Plus you’ll need someone to be right shifty during this mission.”

The next sight made Naya and Cullen even more impatient. Dorian, Iron Bull, Lady Vivienne and Varric were also clamoring to leave with them. Naya had to use her best Inquisitor voice to get them to back down. “Dorian, Sera, you can come, but the rest of you need to stay here in case other needs come up while we are away.”

Dorian and Iron Bull exchanged a pouty look as Bull helped the mage onto his horse. “Come back with our bard. And my boyfriend. Or there will be hell to pay.”

As soon as the party of four were through the gates of Skyhold, Cullen looked over his shoulder at his friends and gave them a smile he did not know he even had the energy to muster. “Keep up if you can.” With a kick to his war horse, the man left them in the dust.

_ _ _

  
They rode hard as long as they could, until their mounts were exhausted. Naya and Dorian threatened to use their magic to make Cullen stop and only then did he rest and let them camp.

That night around the campfire, after Dorian and Sera had gone to bed, Cullen and Naya sat together in awkward silence.

“Cullen, I can never stop apologizing.”  
“As you should.”  
“I want us to be friends again.”

Cullen poked at the fire, his face etched with worry. “We were always friends, Naya. You have always been important to me, and not just because you are going to save the world. I care for you and I wish you had known that just because – Samira…”

He couldn’t finish once he said her name. It was like someone was twisting a blade into his heart just saying her name and not having her at his side.

“Coming with me to help Samira certainly helps, Naya. It’s a start to us getting back to normal. But I know another way that can help.”

Naya grabbed his hand, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. “Anything, Cullen. I will do anything.”  
“Tell Solas what you did last night – and why you did it. The why of it is still missing for me as well, but you should be honest with him. Doesn’t he deserve that much?”

He saw the wave of distaste wash over Naya’s features. “And if you won’t tell _me_ why you did what you did – you can tell Samira once we are through with this nonsense.”

He got up and headed to the tent he was sharing with Dorian.

_ _ _

They reached the Comte du Chauveau’s villa in three days of hard riding, but the place looked deserted. Dorian and Cullen waited from a hillside above the villa as the two elves scouted the perimeter of the home. Cullen watched them through his spyglass as Sera did a broad pantomime that he could only interpret as “We’re going to break in, yeah?”

“This is not what I thought I’d be doing today,” Cullen mumbled as he signed his assent back to Sera.  
“Me neither. I should be ‘riding the Bull’ as he so colorfully puts it. Shouldn’t we move in closer?”

Sera gave Naya a boost so she could scramble through the only open window in the entire villa, one almost 6 feet off the ground above a larger window that would not open. Cullen and Dorian joined Sera as Naya spoke to them loud enough to be heard through the glass but not loud enough to draw attention.

“There are a few servants home. You three wait for me here, I’ll signal if there’s trouble.”

Cullen was liking this plan less and less. “Fuck the servants, let’s just - let’s just burn this place to the ground.” Sera snickered and Dorian rolled his eyes, but Naya pointed a stern finger at him through the window. “Commander, Josephine would never stop fretting if you alienated a handful of these Orlesian nobles after all her hard work. Now SHHH.”

Naya made her way through the quiet villa, checking bedrooms and salons as she went along. She found what appeared to be the master bedroom and crept into the room, reaching out with her magic, checking for traps or any signs of Samira.

 _There. A heartbeat coming from behind a wall._ Naya calmed herself and Fade-stepped into the hidden room on the other side.

In the windowless room, Naya gasped at the sight before her. Samira was lying on a bed behind a set of gilded bars. Chauvin had put her in a cage, like a bird, and kept her chained face down on the bed. The rusty smell of her blood was in the air and Samira was not moving, her eyes squeezed shut in pain and fear.

“Samira? What has he done to you?”

Samira stirred in the bed but could not look up at her. “Just leave me here to die, Inquisitor.”  
“Cullen would not like to hear you say that, he is here, outside –“

Naya looked at the lock on the cage, trying to cast anything on it to break it.

“It’s no use, Naya. He has the only key that will open it. Guess what – he’s in league with the Venatori. The entire cage is enchanted. You won’t be able to unlock it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that – “ Naya took a step back and swung the blade at the end of her staff on the lock. It sent her staggering a few steps back on impact.

“Maker’s balls, what are we going to do?”  
“You have to get the key – from HIM.”  
  
Naya crossed to the side of the cage closest to Naya, reaching in to brush the hair from her tear-stained face. “What did he do to you, Samira?”

“He wanted to rape me but – Andraste smiled upon me, he couldn’t get it up, even after he tied me up and I couldn’t kick him anymore. So instead he has been torturing me for the last three days. No big deal.” She laughed weakly.

“Torturing you?”  
“He’s pulled all my fingernails off. I’ll be fine. They’ll grow back. That is if he doesn’t decide to start cutting off my fingers too.”

Naya pressed her forehead against the bars and her tears joined Samira’s. “Samira, I am so sorry. I am sorry for everything I did. If it’s any consolation Cullen never wanted me, once he met you. He loves you – and we are both going to get you out of here.”

Samira looked up to meet her eyes. “My lady, it has been an honor to serve your cause since the day I met you. Of course I forgive you. But I implore you to leave me here. You must go, he will be back from Val Royeaux any moment. He goes there every morning to conduct business and comes home by sunset.”

“Samira, he has an agent of the Inquisition as his prisoner. We have the right to be here to take you away.”  
“He is a psychopath, Naya. You will have to kill him to get the key.”  
“So we will. I will be back, Samira. Hang in there one more day, my bard. I want to hear you sing again.”

Naya touched her on the forehead again before Fade-stepping out of the room, heading back to her friends outside.

She took one look at Cullen, and then turned, walked a few paces away and threw up. Cullen grabbed onto Dorian’s arm to steady himself. “Is she – dead?”

“He has been torturing her, Cullen. We have to kill this man – and I know you have very little patience with diplomacy, but we have to do it the right way so we don’t engender more animosity from his friends or allies.”

Cullen could not speak, the rage that filled him was absolute, he went rigid and silent.

“You’re going to have to duel him, Cullen,” Dorian said, steadying the man on his arm. “That’s how we noble gits conduct business.”  
“What, with pretty swords and the like?” Sera scoffed.

“I can do it. We will bring her back on the morrow.” Cullen flexed his sword hand, squeezing it shut.

_ _ _

The next day, Chauveau headed for the capital like he did every morning. After he swept through the market, collecting debts and threatening merchants that still owed him money, he headed for his favorite tavern, The Golden Mask, the same place where he had heard Samira sing the first time.

A surprise was waiting for him when he turned away from the bar with his glass of wine. Cullen’s glove hit him right in the mouth – the audible slap silenced the Orlesians around them.

“A duel, serah. Today, before sunset. You have someone that belongs with us and you cannot turn down this request.” Cullen slapped the glass out of his hand, out of spite.

Chauveau looked over Cullen’s shoulder and saw the Inquisitor standing behind him an ice shard ready to fire at him. Dorian and Sera were also ready, taking aim at the bodyguards he travelled with.

Naya took a step closer, now at Cullen’s side. “Chauveau, you must duel. For a start, I could tell Empress Celene what you’ve been up to with our bard, and you will be subject to her punishment. Secondly, all these good Orlesians saw the request, and we know your silly rules about dueling.”

An ugly smile spread across Chauveau’s face under the mask. “Oh, I am very much aware. You might also be aware that I have never lost a duel. I was one of Gaspard’s best men. But alas, it is your death, not mine. I choose the weapon. Rapiers – and no armor, if you please, Commander. It takes all the fun out of the game. I will see you at sunset.”

Before he could turn to leave, Cullen grabbed the man by the shirt. “Bring Samira Lyanna Blackmyre with you. Let the city see what kind of man you are before you die on my sword.”

_ _ _

Cullen and his friends retired to the quarters they had rented for the mission. He was full of nervous energy, pacing the salon out of his armor. Naya’s eyes watched him as he stomped across the deep Orlesian carpets.

“Cullen, have you ever sparred with a rapier before?”  
“It’s just a fancy sword, how hard could it be?”

Dorian was nervous too, he drained his wine goblet. “You musn’t let him make any contact, Cullen. Knowing this Chauveau, he will have poison on his blade.”

Sera came bounding in with a box in her arms. “Right, I found some nice ones. Wot you think about these shiny fellows?”

She opened the case, revealing two light swords, with intricate grips. Cullen picked one up, swishing it in the air a few times to test it.

“Alright, who is going to practice with me?”

The two elven girls took a step back. Dorian was just about to refill his glass when he realized everyone was looking at him.

“You’ve got to be joking.”  
“You must help me, Dorian! Surely you must have seen a duel in the streets of Tevinter?”  
“Yes, but –“

Cullen handed him the other sword while Sera and Naya hid their smiles as best as they could.

“Come along, man. You’ve always been talking about how you’ve wanted to show me your sword.”  
“That’s definitely not what I meant, Cullen.”

Cullen gave him a wink and even pursed his lips at him in a kiss, falling into a fencing position. Faster than he could react, Dorian lunged at him and Cullen had to parry quickly to recover.

“No kisses during the duel, or Cassandra is going to be the new commander of the Inquisition army.”

* * *

  
Samira heard the door to her cage opening and immediately began cowering on the bed, pushing herself away from the footsteps coming closer and closer to her.

“Please Ser, please don’t-“  
“Oh, Samira, I know you would love to stay here and have a little more fun with me, but we’re going for a ride. Your previous owner has come to collect you – and I want you to watch when I run him through with my sword.”

Chauvin yanked her up by her hair while one of his men unlocked the restraints around her wrists and ankles. Big tears rolled down her dirty cheeks and Chauveau paused to lick a few of them from her face, making her cringe even more.

“Ah, what’s wrong, don’t you want to leave?” Chauveau’s minions laughed at his playful tone. “I would let my stout-hearted men here have a go at you so I could watch, but alas, we must leave. Besides, I will be bringing you back here sooner than you think.”

Samira watched with alarm as the men parted, making room for a new person entering her cell. The man had cruelty emanating off of him – mixed with deadly magic.

Chauvin kept a fist in her hair, holding her in place, watching the mage approach her.

“So this is the girl? She’s not much to look at. What would you have me do, Chauveau?”

“Take her voice from her. If I cannot hear her sing, no one else will either.”

Samira began kicking as hard as she could, trying to pull away from Chauveau, anything to get away from the mage, now brandishing a knife.

“Stop your theatrics, girl. This is happening whether you comply or not,” the mage hissed, revealing a mouth full of black teeth.

One of Chauveau’s men held her left arm out toward the mage, who sliced the soft part of her arm deeply, making her scream. He collected her blood in a shallow bronze dish, adding magical agents to it from a pouch around his waist. He said a few words over the dish, making the contents glow. She watched him drink half of it down, her blood on his lips, before he pushed the dish against her mouth.

“Drink it, you tiresome whore.”

The thick concoction slid down her tongue, burning with a strange sensation. The evil mage grabbed her by the neck, hard, choking her, as he said a string of strange words. Samira almost fainted, seeing colors, wishing she would just die and leave this terrible experience behind.

She snapped to, realizing nobody was holding her down anymore. She looked up and saw Chauveau raise his hand, bringing it down against her face, slapping her harder than he ever had before. She opened her mouth to scream – and nothing came out.

“Good work. Alright, my pretty, let’s go. Your Commander awaits.”

___

Cullen and his friends waited in the middle of Val Royeaux. Word of the duel spread quickly and there were plenty of onlookers forming a curious circle in the square, and many more sitting in the balconies above, some of them sipping wine and eating treats, waiting for their blood-thirsty entertainment.

The Commander was out of his armor, in black leather breeches and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Sera and Naya stood nearby, holding hands out of worry. Dorian coached Cullen, trying to be reassuring, but also anxious about the thought that if Cullen fell, he would also have to try to duel for Samira’s life, and how could he even do such a thing with his friend bleeding out nearby.

“Remember, don’t let him cut you. The bastard certainly will have poisoned his blade.”  
“Right.”  
“Your best bet might be to tire him out and then just, you know, just fucking slice him right through the liver.”  
“Yes, the liver. Or, the neck, or the balls.”  
“Steady on, Cullen. Here, take a drink.”

Dorian passed him a flask and let Cullen take a hit of whiskey. Behind Dorian, the crowd began to part, revealing Chauveau and his second, another Orlesian nobleman behind a shiny mask. Cullen gave the flask back to Dorian and took a few steps forward.

“Where is Samira, Chauveau? I will not put up with this farce if you did not bring her.”

Two of Chauveau’s men appeared behind him, Samira dangling limply between them. They pushed her forward and she took two weak steps before falling to her knees. The crowd gasped in shock at her broken down appearance, her wrists bound by leather straps, an ugly bruise across half of her face.

“Samira!” Cullen yelped, a hand outstretched to her, but Dorian held him back for now. Samira stayed kneeling, and could not look up at Cullen. Naya and Sera pulled each other into a tight hug, unable to look at her either.

“Duel first, then the girl. Whoever she goes home with her will be a lucky man, eh?” Chauveau cracked a dark smile under his mask, surveying the crowd but finding no sympathizers. He sighed, gesturing to another Orlesian noble, a man Naya had approached to be the impartial judge of the duel. “Let’s get this over with.”

Their rapiers were presented to the judge, who eyed them but did not touch them – probably knowing at least one of them was poisoned already.

“Alright gentleman, at the tolling of the bell, you will begin and the duel is not over until one of you, or your seconds, is dead. By the terms set earlier, the winner will take home one Samira Lyanna Blackmyre, who has also agreed to this match of her own free will.”

Cullen looked over at her, still kneeling on the ground, her eyes blank and far away. She didn’t look like she had any more free will of her own. He was going to tear this man to shreds for this.

Each man took up his rapier, dropping into position – at the tolling of the bell, they clashed swords – the crowd breaking into spontaneous cheers.

Chauveau was fast and light on his feet like many chevaliers. Cullen had to be very careful, trying to predict and learn his swishing moves while parrying away his attacks. The Commander had strength and a height advantage, but the evil Orlesian sidestepped his angry lunges and remises. Cullen was also a natural swordsman, and what he didn’t know about dueling with rapiers he was picking up quickly by simply copying Chauveau. Cullen twisted his rapier in a circle, deftly deflecting away the sharp point. The crowd cheered, Naya was glad they were on the Inquisition’s side. She watched the duel through the fingers she had pressed to her face.

“I can’t watch, I can’t watch – how’s he doing,” she whispered at Sera.  
“He’s not bad, actually. Come on, look Naya!”

Sera yanked her hands away from her face just in time to see Cullen narrowly dodge an aggressive riposte.

“Mythal, no, help us! Cullen, please be careful!” Naya shouted with a stomp of her foot.  
Dorian took a nervous hit off his flask. “Cullen, he’s vulnerable on his right side! Slice his arm off!” More than one onlooker agreed with Dorian, calling out advice of their own or suggesting other parts of him that could be removed.

Cullen did not hear him, sweat was rolling down his face but he did not take his eyes off his opponent. Chauveau was getting frustrated, perhaps he did not expect the duel to go on longer than a quarter of an hour. Cullen grew more aggressive, attacking him from different angles, lunging at his side, sweeping the rapier past the nose of his mask, edging him toward a fountain behind him. He finally drew blood, slashing Chauveau’s upper right arm deeply. His work was not done, he had not cut him across an artery.

The crowd cheered at the sight of the blood, egging Cullen on. But Chauveau silenced them with his next move. He lunged at Cullen, driving the tip of his sword into his left shoulder. Naya and Sera screamed, now pushing into Dorian’s arms, where he kept the two women pinned to his chest.

“He’s done for. If there is poison –“

Naya sobbed into Dorian’s jacket. She did not see Samira crumple to the ground in a faint. The shouts of the crowd now drowned out all sound.

Dorian watched as the two men stood a few paces away from each other, each of them breathless with effort, touching their wounds. Cullen looked woozy, blood making his linen shirt stick to his shoulder, but he remained so determined. He broke the pause, lunging powerfully, the Comte’s back now against the fountain. Chauveau blocked his move but had nowhere else to go. Cullen quickly took a step back and aimed the tip of his rapier at the man’s throat, where it sunk in an inch or two before he had to pull back as Chauveau counter attacked weakly.

Chauveau held his throat, the blood pouring from the wound. Cullen did not wait, he took a step forward and plunged the blade deep into Chauveau’s stomach. The man mouthed words that did not come to his lips, before collapsing forward, the blood pooling around him.

The crowd broke into an uproar, the atmosphere felt like a riot was about to break forth. Naya looked around at the Orlesians and it dawned on her that a great many people might have also loathed this man – they crowded the body, spitting on him, kicking his corpse, cursing his name.

Cullen dropped to his knees, whatever poison on Chauveau’s blade was working through his system. Dorian let go of the two women and ran toward his friend, ready to help him.

“Cullen, keep your eyes open, you must look at me!”  
“Samira, is she – “

Dorian looked over his shoulder and saw Naya and Sera racing to her side, Sera ready with a blade to free her from her restraints.

“She’s fine, Cullen, but hang on, please –“

Dorian felt a wave of panic as Cullen’s veins began to grow darker, all over his body. “Fasta vaas, it’s quillback poison, someone please call a healer!”

Cullen felt Dorian’s cleansing magic sweeping through him, but he was still having trouble breathing.

“I feel very cold, Dorian -“  
“We must get you out of here, keep talking to me, Cullen.”

Dorian sent a wave of warmth through him, but still Cullen shivered violently. Now the three women were crowding around him, Naya’s magic joining Dorian’s. He felt Samira’s tears landing on his own cheek. He reached up to touch her face.

“Samira, I love you…”

She shook her head, bidding him to stay with them. He felt for her hand and was shocked to find it bloody, the fingernails torn off.

“Samira, what did he do to you?”

Cullen felt anger pulsing through him but Dorian held him down. “You must stay calm, Cullen, or you’ll push the poison throughout your system. Finally, here they are – move out of the way everyone!”

Strong arms lifted Cullen onto a stretcher, Samira’s face fading from his view. He listened to Naya sternly commanding whoever was carrying him to take them to their villa. The last thing he heard was Sera’s voice.

“We best get out of here yeah? I don’t want to see them tear his body apart like a roasted chicken.”

  
___  
  
When Cullen awoke, he found himself lying on a soft bed, afternoon light seeping in through the heavy velvet curtains nearby. His head hurt like crazy, his tongue dry in his mouth, his shoulder aching from his dueling wound, now bandaged tightly. He sat up and saw Dorian sleeping in an arm chair nearby, a book on his lap.

“Dorian?”

The man’s dark blue eyes fluttered open and a look of total relief swept across his face. “Oh good, you’re not dead. We don’t have to blow up Orlais for killing our Commander now.”

“Can I get something to drink please?”

Dorian stood up and shouted into the nearby living room. “He’s awake, you crazy bints! Bring him some water!”

Naya swept into the room, bringing him a pitcher of water, all smiles now. Sera raced in ahead of her, jumping onto the bed. Cullen was surprised to feel her arms about his neck and he could smell the strawberry and straw-like scent of the elf girl’s hair.

“Glad you’re not dead, Commander Tightpants! You had us so bloomin’ worried!”

Naya scrambled up on the bed too, spilling some of the water before handing him the glass. “Very bloomin’ worried! You stopped breathing for three minutes until Dorian had to administer – um, he breathed into your mouth.”

Cullen nearly choked on his water. “Did he now? Are we sure he had to do that?”

Dorian blushed, sitting on the bed near Cullen’s feet. “Oh, you liked it as much as I did. I am glad to learn your lips are as soft as they look. That’s the one bloody good thing that came out of this mess.”

Cullen smiled broadly at everyone but something else began to tug at him. “And where is Samira? Doesn’t – doesn’t she want to see me?”

Everyone grew very serious. Cullen began to panic. “What has happened? Did something happen? Where is she?”

Dorian’s voice lost all of its trademark sarcasm. “Cullen, we – drew straws to see who would tell you. None of us wanted to have to tell you this.”

Cullen sat back on the pillows, growing pale now. “Alright, out with it. Who drew the shortest straw?”

Naya held his hand between her two small ones and took a deep breath. Cullen looked at Dorian and Sera, and they could not meet his eyes.

“Cullen – Samira cannot speak anymore. We had her write out what happened to her. Before the duel, Chauveau had a blood mage take her voice. Dorian and I are not entirely sure the process can be reversed, but we have started doing research, and we are monitoring her health. Once we get her back to Skyhold, Solas and Vivienne can help as well.”

Dorian ran a hand through his black hair. “My hope is some of it is magic we can reverse – and some of it is simply – trauma from her experience at Chauveau’s villa. Perhaps in time, she will heal emotionally and that will help.”

A silent tear ran down Cullen’s face. “But – why isn’t she _here?_ She does not want to see me?”

Now Naya and Dorian grew silent. They let Sera explain the rest. “She’s kinda – messed up right now. She was tortured, that asshole _cunt_ took the most important thing from her. She seems – grateful, that you did what you did, but also, real, real angry that you almost died.”

Naya squeezed his hand to get his attention again. “I think it best that you and Dorian return to Skyhold first, when you are well. You can spread the word among our ranks about Samira, let people have a little time to grow accustomed to her new condition. We will return home after you, but let us spend a few days spoiling her a bit. Girls only, alright? Give her time, Cullen. Time and space.”

Cullen nodded, feeling as broken as he did when he thought he had lost Samira the night of her performance. To know he would not hear her sing again, make him laugh again with a clever twist of her words, and that she may also never touch him again? He closed his eyes against the pain and heartbreak.

“Thank you, friends. I too need a little time alone, if it’s not too much trouble.”

They filed out in silence, Dorian giving him one last look of sympathy before closing the doors behind him.

Cullen broke down in tears, sobbing into his hands. He had done everything to save Samira but it had not been enough.


	11. Chapter 11

Cullen and Dorian made it back to Skyhold five days later, after Cullen had felt strong enough to ride. Before he left their rented villa in Orlais, he had seen only one glimpse of Samira on one of the balconies, warming herself in the sunshine. He only saw the back of her, her shining black hair tumbling down her shoulders. He had snuck by, so as not to startle her, but he was relieved to see her simply sitting there, her hands folded in her lap, covered in dark green silk gloves.

Once in Skyhold, he told his knight-captains about Samira’s fate, and that they were to delicately spread the word that the Songbird of Skyhold would not be performing in the Herald’s Rest for the time being. “Leave them with a little hope, just tell them she is recovering for now.”

The men filed out of his office, melancholy hanging in the air. Ser Barris turned before leaving. “Andraste’s elbows, Commander. I’m so awfully sorry about all of this.”

Cullen nodded at the man. “Thank you, Barris. So am I.”

That night, Cullen intuited that he should go have a drink in the Herald’s Rest, to offer the illusion of continuity and normalcy. He opened the door to the pub and found everyone had left Sam’s performance space empty in the middle of the room. He looked around the room at the soldiery, mages and healers that had congregated in a gloomy sort of camaraderie. Someone had placed a sprig of pretty embrium on her bar stool. Cullen had to fight the wave of sadness that hit him at the sight of the little flower. He was not the only one who loved her voice.

He stepped up to the barstool, a mug of ale in his hands. “Come on lads and lasses, Sam would be let down to know you are all moping around due to lack of her. Let’s raise a glass to our bard!”

The atmosphere of the bar changed, everyone hoisted their drinks high. Bull and his Chargers bellowed back their approval the loudest, Cabot was even standing on the bar in his enthusiasm. “To the bard! To Samira!”

Varric gestured him over to his table, making room for Cullen between him and Cassandra. “That was damned classy of you, Curly. You always know just what to do. Here, drink this. Drink a lot of it.”

“Good idea, dwarf. Lots of whiskey please! Bring it to me in a bowl!” Cullen accepted the shot of whiskey from Varric.

Cassandra gave him a very gooey, vulnerable look. “Oh Cullen – what you did. It is beyond romantic. Every woman in Skyhold has been swooning since they heard.”

Varric elbowed Cassandra painfully. “None of that tonight! Tonight we will get so drunk Cabot will have to peel us off the ceiling!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense, Varric,” Cassandra shot at him, before downing some whiskey herself.

“You lack my literary genius, Seeker, it makes plenty of sense to me!”

Cullen relaxed in the company of his oldest friends. In his whiskey-fueled state, he came up with a plan. His life without Samira would be drilling the troops, plotting at the war table, drinking until he was blind, and repeating it all the next day. It was a good plan, he decided, as Bull slapped him too hard on the back, making him sputter.

___

 

True to her word, Naya returned with Sera and Samira a week later. Cullen watched from the battlements as the three women rode closer. He leaned against the stone, half in a shadow, not wanting Samira to see him too clearly, but still he held his breath hoping she would look up at him. When she did, he gasped, stepping back into the shadow, his heart thumping hard. _She looked for me, she wanted to see me_ – it was a pinprick of hope against the week he had spent in the Void of his emotions. As soon as he felt it, it fluttered away from him. _Was she really looking for me? Maybe she was just looking up at the bloody castle._

Cullen headed for his office, and up the ladder to his loft, hoping to catch a second glimpse of her through his window. He watched Naya, Sera and Samira hand off their horses to Master Dennet. He was relieved to see his soldiers passing by her without a look, following their instructions to act normal and not gawk at her. Samira looked so pretty and shy standing there in the middle of the courtyard, Cullen wanted to run straight down to her and put his lips on hers but he knew it was too soon for big displays of passion. He watched as Naya asked her a question and she nodded back, allowing herself to be led away by the hand. Before they could disappear into the castle, Samira shot a quick look toward Cullen’s window and saw him standing there. Cullen raised a tentative hand to wave at her – but she did not return the gesture.

Naya took Samira to be looked over by Vivienne and Dorian. Sam sat on Vivienne’s big ornate armchair as they prodded her with magic, looked down her throat, and peppered her with questions. Naya had found her a slate she could write on with a piece of chalk to communicate.

Dorian’s voice was gentle as he measured her pulse. “Samira, do you remember what the blood mage said before he grabbed your neck?”

She wrote on the slate: “Hard to understand. He hissed.”

Vivienne paced the room around her. “Anything would help, darling. Even how many words he said.”

Samira thought about it, inhaling to calm herself.  “8 words?” She erased her slate and wrote more. “Tevene maybe, but I did not understand?”

Dorian snapped his fingers. “Probably _ancient_ Tevene. Alright, 8 words in a dead language, that’s more than knowing nothing. I’m off to the library! I could use another set of eyes, maybe send one of Fiona’s boys my way, will you, Inquisitor?”

He gave Samira a quick peck on the forehead before leaving.

Vivienne held Samira’s gloved hand in hers. “We’re going to get down to the bottom of this, it feels reversible to me. But part of it is also up to you. You will speak when you are ready, none of us will rush you, do you understand?”

Samira smiled at her, but then extricated her hand from the elegant mage. She wrote on her slate, and held it up to Naya. “I want to be useful.”

Vivienne clucked her tongue. “You dear girl, you should just rest and relax.”

A stubborn crease appeared in her brow. She erased the words and wrote new ones. “Help Inquisition please.”

Naya pouted at this, “But, don’t your…fingers hurt, Sam?”

She shook her head and wrote on the slate again. “Only a little. Gloves help.”

Naya helped her up from the big armchair. “Oh, alright, if you insist. Let’s see if Josephine has some letters you can write.”

___

Cullen was nose-deep in some paperwork when he heard a tentative knock on the door. Sam’s knock. He stood up in surprise as she came into his office, her hands folded in front of her in the soft kid gloves she now took to wearing.

“Samira!” He took a step around the desk but she stopped him with a gesture, pulling a piece of parchment from her cloak and holding it out to him at arm’s length. He took it from her and unfolded it. It was a letter.

 

 

> _Cullen -_  
>    
>  _I had to come straight away to give you this letter. I thank you wholeheartedly for saving me from the Duke. I have my life because of you and only you. It is a debt I will never forget. But I also can never forgive you for putting yourself in harm’s way. You are the Commander of an army, an army the world needs now more than ever. You risked your cause for whom? A tavern singer who cannot even sing any more. You should have left me there and let that man put me out of my misery._
> 
> _I release you from any – commitment or bond – you felt you had with me. I am no good to you now, Chauveau took away the one thing that made me, me. I am not the woman you once loved nor am I worthy of your love anymore._  
>    
>  _I think it is best we stop seeing each other, which I know will be hard as I want to continue to help the Inquisition any way I can here in Skyhold. If you feel my presence compromises your duties, I can ask Leliana to station me somewhere else in Ferelden._
> 
> _I am sorry if this wounds you but you will get over it in time. You are my strong, noble lion. You deserve to be happy so I hope you will seek companionship elsewhere._  
>    
>  _Samira._

Cullen looked up at her, a snarl already curling his lip.

“So this is it, you’re – you think you’re done with me? Because _you_ say so?”

She crossed her arms and her expressive eyes told her she was yes indeed, breaking up with him.

“I’m supposed to just forget everything we’ve done together, the way you helped me when I needed you, the way you feel in my arms?”

Sam looked away now in anguish.

“Why do you think you are unworthy of me? I have been through – some shit of my own – Samira. I had to do things I shouldn’t have done, innocent people died because of my actions... If anything I have been unworthy of _any_ love or friendship in my life.”

The stubborn look reappeared on Samira’s face and she just shook her head at him. She dug a piece of chalk out a pocket and wrote on her slate she kept attached to the belt at her waist by a hemp braid.

“I’m sorry. It’s over.”

He approached her now, not moving too fast in case it spooked her. He took the slate out of her hands and erased her letters with his fingers. He wrote a message of his own. “I love you.”

She looked up at him, her breath coming in emotional inhales. Cullen handed the slate back to her before turning away and sitting down at his desk again.

“Nothing you’ve said to me changes how I feel. Nor will I alter my feelings because you believe I deserve better. I will wait – forever, if need be – for you to come back to me.”

Cullen placed her letter among the others stacked on his desk, his face businesslike and impersonal now.

“Thank you for the missive, Blackmyre. You are dismissed.”

Samira opened her mouth, wishing she could speak, but Cullen was not even looking up at her anymore. He had returned to his work. Sam turned on her heel and left, hoping to get back to her room before the tears began to fall.

Cullen waited for her to be far enough away before he exited his office and went for a walk on the battlements. His one-sided conversation with Samira angered him, she wanted to end their romance and he had no say in this.

He leaned along a stone wall, looking at the vertiginous drop in front of him. Being out here made him think about how much time he had wasted pining over Naya, and now here he was again, waiting for another woman to come to her senses. It sort of made him laugh, how – pathetic, he suddenly felt.

Cole materialized next to him, startling him as always.

“She does not feel good about herself. She wants to be fixed but she worries she will never be fixed again. She feels it isn’t fair you wait for her. But don’t worry, Commander. She _thinks_ these things but does not _believe_ her own words.”

Cullen did not look at the spirit boy, he often found looking right at him was a surefire way to make him disappear again. “Are you _sure_ , Cole? You’re not just – trying to make me feel better?”

Cole did not answer him directly. Instead, he hummed one of Samira’s melodies, knowing all the notes. The song gave Cullen gooseflesh – and made him long for her even more.

__

A week later, Cullen was on his way to the war table when he was startled to see Samira sitting at Josephine’s desk, her head bowed over a piece of parchment, her quill moving quickly across the page. Josie was reading a letter nearby near the fire, but she stopped to give Cullen a sharp look that said, _keep moving, don’t say anything, let her work_ , and he opened the door to the war room without a second look at Sam. Josephine followed him in a few moments later, joining Leliana and Naya around the big map.

Cullen cleared his throat. “How is she?”  
“She has been helping Josie with her letters. She now claims she wants to help embroider Inquisition banners and also assist the surgeon with the injured.” Leliana shook her head in affectionate disbelief.

Josie gave Cullen a supportive smile. “She has such lovely handwriting! I am glad to have her help.”

Naya pouted as she fidgeted with the quill in her hands. “I do wish she’d rest a little. It seems a bit much to be so busy after – everything that happened.”

Cullen looked down at the big map in front of him, his eyes a little lost. “I know from previous experience, when you are suffering, it is best to keep busy, Inquisitor.” He looked up at Naya, his voice sincere and steady. “I did never have a chance to thank you for your support in Val Royeaux, my lady.”

Naya dipped her head at him. “I am glad that I could do a service for you for once, Cullen. Now, what are we to do about this Samson character, your old roommate?”

Cullen turned his tactician’s mind away from his bard and toward the business at hand. “We will track his supply routes. One of them is bound to lead us right to his front door step. I’ll send patrols out, Leliana, a few of your scouts should sweep the roads ahead of them for any intelligence that could be of assistance.”

The next morning, Leliana stood with Cullen on the ramparts as they watched a select contingent of her agents and his troops leave on their mission.

“I feel good about this, how about you, Sister?”  
“We are close for sure. With Samson out of the picture, we might be able to move on Corypheus.”

She glanced at her friend’s profile, his hair blowing back in the wind. “Now, Cullen. I know you did not ask me out here to reassure each other about this mission. What is on your mind?”

Cullen dropped his voice but did not turn to meet her piercing gaze. “If there is anything Samira _needs_ , or _asks_ for, will you please let me know? I have been asked to keep a wide berth – but that does not mean I will not continue to take care of her.”

Leliana placed a hand on his arm. “Of course, Cullen. I will let you know.”

___

Sam spent a lot of time with the Inquisitor when she was around. It made Naya a little uncomfortable at first, still remembering her terrible fumbling with Cullen the night of the Orlesian party. One night in Naya’s room, while Samira helped her with her correspondence, she finally asked Sam why she had been singled out for all this attention. Sam wrote on her slate: “You are so patient with me.”

Naya paced the rug in front of her desk. “But…Sam. I still feel so terrible about – what I did with Cullen in front of you. I will never forget the look on your face.”

Sam gestured to her to come closer to her desk. She took a scrap piece of paper and picked up her quill, finding it easier to write this way. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Naya pulled a chair up next to her, blushing intensely. “Um, I was jealous. I spied on you and Cullen one night. You did things together – I hadn’t even heard of before.”

It was Sam’s turn to blush. She put the quill down for a second, touching one of her cheeks.

“I sort of wanted to do those things too.”

Naya took up her quill again, dipping it in the inkwell. “You are not happy with Solas?”  
“I guess I am not.”

Sam wrote something on the paper with a determined look on her face. “Then you should do something about it!”

Naya started to speak but Sam kept writing. “He either needs to learn how to love you or to the Void with him!”

She quickly drew a picture of a big black hole, and a small elf-like man falling into it. Naya smiled as the drawing took shape, and Sam wrote the word “Noooooo!” coming out of his mouth.

“Sam, you’re quite the artist in every way possible, it’s amazing.”

Sam straightened her back, brushing her hair off her shoulders in pride. Naya’s face grew serious again. “So – do you think I could just…end it with him and…we’d still be able to work together and be around each other and what not?”

Sam returned to her piece of paper. “Of course. As an example, Cullen and I have ended our relationship, and we are fine.”

Naya yanked the quill out of her hand. “But why?! Have you gone mad, Samira?”

Sam gestured to have the quill back so she could answer her, but Naya was still flabbergasted. “The man rode for three straight days to save you, he could think of nothing else but bringing you home, I don’t understand – is this because of what I did? Because I assure you, it will never, ever happen again.”

Samira only shook her head in sadness, getting the quill back from her. She wrote her response as Naya watched the words unfurl impatiently. “He deserves better than me.”

Naya darted to her feet now, very upset. “Samira, you know Dorian and Vivienne are going to solve the mystery of this blood magic! You are not _broken_!”

Sam wrote on the last bit of scrap paper she had. “I have upset you. I’m sorry, Naya. It’s late, I should go.” She stood up, giving Naya a little respectful bow of her head before leaving.

Naya tried to concentrate on a small map of Emprise de Lion but Sam’s advice about Solas swirled in her head. Yes, she was definitely going to have to do something about that even-tempered elf. And then she would do everything she could to help Cullen and Samira be together again.


	12. Chapter 12

Cullen continued to bump into Samira everywhere he went in Skyhold. He went to pray in the chapel and she was in there with the sisters, dusting the statue of Andraste and replacing the burned down candles. He went to see Leliana in the rookery and she was there, feeding her ravens, letting them eat out of her hands, smiling when a few of them insisted on sitting on her shoulders. He would look for Dorian for another round of chess and she would be at his side in the library, reading a book about one of her new skills or hobbies. Each time he either greeted Sam like he would any other member of the Inquisition, or he outright ignored her, bending his will to her wishes.

One slow afternoon, Cullen had decided to pay Vivienne a visit to see if they had made any progress on the spell that kept Samira silent. He could not ask the question because Sam herself was in Vivienne’s quarters, holding two handfuls of yarn, woven around her fingers, as the knight-enchanter knitted away on the settee nearby.

“I know what you’re thinking, Commander, it’s mean to use her this way, but she doesn’t mind at all, doesn’t she? And it always gets tangled up without her help.”

Samira tilted her head down, too shy to look at Cullen. But Cullen was looking at her. She was wearing a very pretty burgundy gown, a little low cut, showing off the tops of her breasts. He felt free to stare at her, since she never made eye contact with him anymore. He felt a familiar ache rising inside of him just looking at her shoulders and the column of her tan neck.

“Ladies, I will take my leave. I have other things to attend to.”  
Vivienne called out to him as he headed for the stairs. “But you came to see us, darling. My goodness, some people make very little sense.”

As he took the first few stairs back down to the main hall, he heard a signal in the yard – four insistent bells meaning wounded soldiers were on their way back to Skyhold. He heard Vivienne’s voice from behind him, speaking to Samira. “Careful, Sam, don’t fall down the stairs!”

Sam pushed past him, nearly knocking him over. He had heard from Leliana that she had been assisting Skyhold’s surgeon when she needed the help. He followed her mad dash into the courtyard as a group of people headed toward the wagons coming through the gates. In the back of the first wagon, one of Cullen’s senior officers was lying in a pool of his own blood, two of the other soldiers pressing hard on his wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

“It was a rage demon. Ser Grayson took the brunt of an attack. There could a bit of the claw still in there too.”

They put the man on a stretcher and took him straight away to the infirmary, the surgeon and Samira following closely. The surgeon called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Commander. We will put him back together again.”

Grayson had been with him since Kirkwall, the man was his third in command. He sent a prayer to the Maker for him, and it gave him hope to know Samira was helping him too.  
__

Cullen drank in his office, waiting to hear the outcome for Grayson, feeling pensive and anxious. He had been drinking too much as of late, he noted to himself as he looked at the bottle of whiskey. He was about to pour himself another one while he was polishing his armor, when two bells later, the door swung open, revealing a freshly scrubbed Samira, wearing a simple linen nurse’s uniform.

“Is he alright?”

Samira approached him shyly, walking right up to him at his desk, closer than he expected. She wrote on her slate: “He will live” and put three small shards of a demon’s claw on the blotter on his desk in a neat row, biggest to smallest. Cullen could not help himself, he stood up and grabbed Samira into a hug, lifting her off her feet, before putting her back down again and stepping back.

“You know he is one of my oldest friends?”  
She nodded, flushed from his hug. She erased her message and wrote a new one. “I helped!” She smiled now too, pleased with herself.

“Will you have a drink, in thanks and congratulations?”  
Sam nodded again. He poured her a glass and they clinked them together.

At the taste of the whiskey, Sam’s eyes darted away. It was same good stuff they had shared the first night they coupled. Cullen tried to read her face, watching her eyes look at the bookcase. She bit her lip and it threatened to give him an erection right away.

The next time she looked at him again he had sat down on the edge of his desk, closer to her. She downed her whiskey, feeling nervous now.

“More?”  
She shook her head, the liquor brought a pretty blush to her face. She wrote on her slate again. “I should go.”  
“Where do you have to go, my busy little Samira?”  
She had to think about it for a while, her chalk poised over the slate, but no answer came to her.  
“It’s past 8 bells, Samira. Everyone’s eating dinner. Nobody needs your help right now.”

She watched him tilt his head back and swallow his drink, before taking both of their glasses to put them down on the desk behind him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes still boring into hers.

“May I walk you to dinner, or…?”

Cullen let the question dangle in the tension between them. “Shall we stay here and you allow me to make love to you for saving the life of one of my best friends?”

He did not have to give her one more seductive look, she was in his arms and on his lips before he could react. He dove his tongue into her mouth, pulling her in tight, one hand tangled in her air, the other firmly on her buttocks. Cullen felt her hands running through his hair, before they dropped and travelled up his back, under his tunic. He kissed and bit her lightly on the neck, just below the ear – and she groaned.

The two froze, pulling back from each other.

“Samira, you…I heard you.”

She touched a hand to her throat, her eyes wide with surprise. He yanked her back to him by her wrist. “Let me make you groan again.”

He was about to dip his head to kiss her once more when the door behind them swung open. “Ser! Report for you, from Sister Leliana. She said it was –“

Jim stopped midsentence as Cullen stalked toward him, murder in his eyes. Jim skittered away as quickly as he had interrupted and Cullen turned back around to Samira – who was edging her way to one of his other office doors.

“No, please don’t go, Samira!”

She wrote on her slate, very excited. “But I should tell Dorian right away!”

Cullen scooped her closer to him with one arm. “And will you tell him the details,” his voice husky and low. She shook her head no, touching the scar on his lip.

“And will you – let me kiss you again?”  
She shrugged her shoulders at him, trying to be mean and nonchalant but it still gave him hope. She wriggled out of his grasp, giving him a disappointing kiss on the cheek before running off to talk to Dorian.  
  
___

Later that night, in the Herald’s Rest, Cullen was startled to see Leliana standing before him. She rarely left her rookery except for war council meetings. Stepping into the pub on her own without Josie or Naya was a rather bold move.

“I sent a report your way but apparently you had more important things at hand. So I have one word for you, about Mistress Blackmyre. _Pianoforte_. Or is it two words?”

Leliana left the bar as quickly as she had entered it, the crowd parting before her in both fear and respect. Iron Bull cocked an eyebrow at him. “What in the Void is a _pianoforte_?”

Krem swallowed down his ale before teasing his boss. “It’s an instrument, you uncultured Qun. You play it like this.”

He fingered the air in front of him, an “artistic” look on his face, making the rest of the Chargers laugh.

Cullen ran a hand through his hair. Where was he going to get a pianoforte?  
He was going to need some help with this one.

___

For a few weeks after their quick kissing session, Cullen did not see too much of Samira. Dorian and Vivienne were taking full credit for that tiny groan that had come out of her mouth under _his_ expert lips. They believed they had learned the first four words of the ancient Tevinter spell and it was just a matter of luck now to find the last four to reverse it. They kept her up late at night, going through a gigantic Tevene dictionary, just trying to piece the spell together, almost at random.

The world was also conspiring against him on a much bigger front – they had finally heard about the missing Wardens gathering at Adamant Fortress so Cullen spent his every waking moment getting the troops ready for battle. He worked them all over hard – they didn’t know exactly what was waiting for them at Adamant, which meant there was a very real possibility many of them would not be returning to Skyhold.

Dorian told Samira the same dark sentiment as they sat together in the library the day before the Inquisitor, her companions, and her troops were going to leave. Samira refilled his glass of wine, her face letting him know she was thinking of the worst case scenario for all of her friends.

“Now don’t you worry, Sam. They can’t get rid of me that easily, right? I’m much too fabulous to leave this mortal coil.”

She took his hand in hers and gave the back of it a little sad peck.

“Don’t get all maudlin on me now, bard. My my, you certainly have become much more sensitive without that voice of yours. I miss your sarcasm, your magnificent swearing, your graphic descriptions of Cullen’s heavy cock!” She smacked him hard on the shoulder, mouthing the words _shut! Up!_

“Do you want to hear some gossip?” Dorian pulled her closer. Sam nodded, a greedy smile on her face.

“Naya told Solas - no more Inquisitor quim for him.”

At this, Naya grabbed her slate with a huff. She scribbled - “What! She didn’t tell me!”  
“I don’t think she’s told anyone, she’s trying to let Solas have a little dignity. I only heard because Varric heard and he hears everything. Solas honestly looks the same really, I don’t think it affected him in the least.”

Sam made a face that said, “Good riddance!” as she dusted her hands off.  
Dorian whispered in her ear. “But – aren’t you worried about Cullen and the Inquisitor – off together on this big mission, now released from their pesky relationships? And don’t tell me you don’t care, I know you do.”  
  
Dorian rolled his eyes at her message on her slate. “I don’t care.” She had underlined the “don’t”.  
“Oh but you do care. You’d care if he was introducing her to his particular style of rough Fereldan lovemaking.”  
  
Samira tapped the slate again, her eyes narrowing.  
Dorian only continued, his maturity level quickly dropping. “You do care!”  
She underlined all the words on the slate now.  
“Don’t lie, you really, really care.”

She stood up, her eyes flashing in anger, snapping the slate in two. Her voice rang out, a little broken, but quite emphatic. “I don’t, Dorian! I don’t!”

As soon as the words had burst from her mouth, she clapped her hands over her lips. Dorian’s face lit up as he pointed at her in shock.

Enchanter Fiona came around the corner, roused by the sound of Samira’s voice, and the two mages huddled around her. Sam sat still as she felt their magic sweeping around all through her head, down her throat, to her diaphragm.

“Do you think it’s fading?”  
Dorian probed a little more. “It definitely feels weaker. Yes! It’s almost like the enchantment is ripping in places. Sam, you need to keep trying to speak.”

She took a deep breath and tried to say Dorian’s name, but she found herself mute again.

“Hmmm, maybe it helped that I was saying upsetting things to you. What else could possibly upset you…” Fiona walked away, rolling her eyes, as soon as she heard Dorian’s normal tone of voice return.

Dorian handed Sam a piece of cheese to go with her wine. “I bet you 3 gold crowns Naya comes back from Adamant carrying Cullen’s curly-haired twins in her belly.”

Samira stood up, downed her glass of wine, ate her little wedge of cheese, took a second piece for good measure, and stormed away. Dorian called after her, “No come back, I was only kidding, I’ll stop!” but Sam had already made it to the great hall. She passed Naya talking to three fawning noblemen.

“Sam, where are you going, you seem upset?”  
Sam made a quick gesture with two of her fingers, meaning she was going for a walk. She made a snipping motion with her other hand – going herb collecting.  Naya wanted to get away from her new persistent suitors, so she had to ask, “Do you want company?”

Samira had kept walking, already at the big doors of the hall. _That bloody stupid mage, of course I care. But I don’t have the right, I gave that up._

She swung by one of the store rooms, grabbing a basket and some shears. Sam pulled her cloak on and borrowed a pony from Dennet, setting off for the quiet, hidden forest that was a quick ride from Skyhold’s gates.

___

Cullen had more than a few soldier’s superstitions. He kept a tiny copy of the Canticle of Benedictions tucked into his right boot, always shined his armor until it was gleaming, and made sure to eat everything on his plate the dinner before a march. But he stood in opposition to the rituals of some of his men - Cullen always went into battle freshly bathed. The Commander steered his mount toward Naya’s favorite conifer forest, seeking its hidden hot spring. After he cleaned himself thoroughly, he intended to retire for the night, praying and meditating until dawn.

Cullen came around the curve in the path and was surprised to find another horse already tied up to a low branch. He didn’t recognize it, although the pony’s simple saddle and harness felt like Inquisition property. He dismounted, grabbed his towel, soap and shaving kit, and proceeded with caution into the thicket, disappointed he might not have the spring to himself.

He pushed through the underbrush, coming across the boulder where Naya often liked to come and think. He stopped before he made more noise – Samira was sitting on the edge of the rock in a beam of sunshine that had broken through the trees above. She had her shoes off and was bundling bunches of embrium and blood lotus with twine. It wasn’t this that made him stare – she was humming, but was also taking breaks to clear her throat and practice saying one word. “Hello. Hello. Hello.”

Cullen stepped forward. “Hello?”

Samira gasped, dropping the flowers in her hand as she quickly reached for the dagger she always kept tucked into her belt. She lowered her hand when she saw it was Cullen. She cleared her throat again. “Hello.”

“Samira, can you speak now?”  
She shook her head, reaching for the slate that was normally at her side, but remembered what had happened with Dorian earlier. She scowled. It would be very hard for them to communicate now. She mouthed the word _sorry_ as best as she could and shrugged.

“It’s alright. I don’t want to interrupt you.”

Cullen came closer, picking up the flowers she had dropped, holding them out to her. She tied them up quickly and dropped them into her basket. Before he could pull away, Sam gestured at him to stop. She mouthed her words again: _Where are you going?_

“Did you know there is a hot spring if you keep to the left past that dead tree? It doesn’t look like the path continues but it does. I like to bathe before I, – before battle.”

Her gloved fingers gripped a portion of her skirt, Samira’s face clearly worried. Cullen twisted the towel in his hands, and he looped it over his neck. “We leave on the morrow, I’m not sure you know.”

Sam nodded and looked down now, not wanting him to see her tears threatening to fall.

“I may not come back, Samira.”

She shook her head at him in defiance. “No, Sam, it’s true. There is probably bad magic afoot, it could be pure chaos when we get there.”

Sam looked like she had a million things to say to him. She wished she hadn’t snapped her slate in half because of Dorian’s stupid teasing. She opened her mouth and shut it again, wracked with disappointment. Cullen stepped up to the boulder closer, moved her basket away and sat down next to her.

“When I was a child, sometimes my mother would get very sick of our yelling and teasing and screaming and she’d make one or two of us sit in a corner together in silence. My sister Mia and I would trace entire sentences out to each other on each other’s palms – like this.”

He took her gloved hand in his, turning it palm up. She watched his finger carefully outline three letters out. S A M. She smiled at him.

“Go slowly though, alright? It’s been twenty years since I had to do this.”

She took his palm in hers now. She went word by word, with Cullen repeating what she wrote out loud. “You. Must. Come. Back.”

“We. Need. You.”

She stopped her tracing and looked at him, shaking her head. She started again. “I. Need. You.”

Before he could speak again, Samira’s mouth was on his, a gentle kiss, full of tenderness, Cullen felt it all the way down to his toes. He could taste the wine she had been drinking earlier as she gently pushed her tongue into his mouth. Cullen needed no further signal. He laid down flat on the rock behind them and pulled her on top of him.

They kissed for a while, just enjoying the taste of each other, until he distinctly felt Samira’s hips grind down on the growing erection in his breeches, making him moan. A smile played about her lips as she did it again.

“Please Samira, if you keep doing that, I am going to have to take you right here on this boulder.”

Her smile turned into a wicked grin as she sat down on him, wiggling her hips down on his trapped manhood in his pants, over and over and over again. Sam started undoing the laces on the vest she was wearing, casting it aside. Cullen’s hands swept underneath her blouse, feeling for her breasts, cupping them in his hands. It had been too long.

“Take it off, all of it.”

The two started getting undressed in a hurry, making a nest of their clothes to lie down on. Cullen looked at her there, her naked body in the natural sunlight, her legs already open for him.

“I will take this sight with me onto the battlefield. I hope it is the last thing I see before I die.”

Sam raised a hand and pantomimed a mouth talking too much with a childish scowl. “Alright, alright, sorry. Maker’s breath, Samira. Even without a voice you are very demanding.”

He crawled over her, guiding his cock into her, enjoying the sound of her breathy sighing. Samira wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in closer. Cullen kept a hand on either side of her head, wanting to watch her face as he sunk deeply into her.  

“You’re so tight, Samira. Have you missed me?”

She nodded emphatically, brushing her fingertips over his lips, touching his scar. He flicked his hips against her and there it was again, the sound of her moan, like the first one he had coaxed from her in his office not too long ago.

“I want to fuck you until you get your voice back. I want to fuck you until you learn a few new languages too.” He quickened his pace, sliding in and out of her more urgently. “Do you know Avvar, Samira? How about Rivani?”

She groaned louder. Cullen dipped his head to suck on her nipples, never ceasing his thrusting. She held on to his ass now, her hands clutching at him, pushing him in deeper.

“Samira, you feel incredible.”  
She mouthed something at him, but he didn’t understand, she tried again, but he shook his head, puzzled. He stopped his delicious work, worried she was upset about something.

“Samira, is something wrong?”

She rolled her eyes under him, grabbing him by the shoulders now. “Harder!” she shouted in frustration, the sound of her own voice making her gasp in surprise. Cullen broke into laughter before dipping down to kiss her.

“As my lady commands.”

He began fucking her in earnest now, pushing her knees up and holding her in place, as he slapped his hips against hers. She was whispering other things now, trying out her voice, as he pushed her to the edge of her release. Cullen leaned in closer, now driving himself as deeply as he could into her. He watched the flush grow across her face, he knew she was going to come undone soon. He reached down between them and rubbed the pleasure point of her throbbing womanhood.

With a gasp, she squeezed tight around him, but her eyes were open, staring into his. He would never forget what she said next.

“Cullen! _Fuck!_ ”

At the sound of his name on her lips, Cullen burst into her, their orgasms twining together. With a shudder, he withdrew from her, lying down at her side, wrapping an arm around her.

“Say my name again, Samira.”  
“Cullen.”  
“Again.”  
“Cullen.”  
“Again.”  
“ _Cullen.”_

She kissed him on the neck, raining more kisses across his jawline.

“Does it hurt to speak?”  
Samira could whisper back now, if she put her mouth to his ear. “Yes, a little.”

Cullen broke out in laughter. “What’s so funny?” she rasped at him.  
“What are you going to tell the mages when they ask you how you got your voice back?”  
She gave him a petulant look and a push on the arm.  
“Are you going to tell them my cock cured you - because it did?”

Samira pushed him harder now but Cullen fought back, dropping his lips onto hers. Judging by the urgency of her tongue in his mouth, she was ready for him again, but he pulled away.

“Samira, I should go bathe, before it gets too dark. Would you like to come with me?”

She nodded and he helped her up to stand. She reached for her blouse but Cullen shook his head at her. “It’s not too far, we can walk there like this.” Sam picked up his toiletries and held his hand, following him deeper into the forest, as he led her around an ancient fallen tree and down an almost invisible path. There was a break in the bushes and the hot spring came into view.

“Do you like it?”  
Sam nodded, it was very pretty and the heat of the water caused the air to be steamy. Cullen gave her a peck before turning with a whoop and jumping into the water. It made Sam giggle to see him so carefree, even on the eve of a big march to battle. She put his things down on a log and held her breath, jumping in after him.

The water was the perfect temperature, warmer than bath water, and the spring was deep in the middle. Samira swam up to him and into his arms, locking onto his lips again. When she began grasping his cock under the water he laughed, breaking the kiss.

A sly smile crept over his face. “Samira, I do want to again, but I also need to do my little ritual. Why don’t you help me?” She gave him a smile and paddled back to the edge of the spring to get his kit.

Cullen headed for a part of the spring where he could stand up, the water coming up to his knees. Samira made her way over the rocks to get to him, looking in the leather bag. She pulled out a bar of soap and – a strange looking bristly sponge.

“First the soap, then the loofah.”  
She grinned at him, mouthing the word ‘loofah?’ back at him.  
“Is there something wrong with a gentleman taking care of himself? Have I ever come to you smelling like a druffalo?”

She shook her head ‘no’ in all seriousness. “Alright then, bard. Get to work.”

Samira looked at the demigod standing before her. His cock was at half mast but was growing more solid under her appraising gaze. She put the sponge down for now and set to work, her mouth having gone dry with arousal as he turned to offer her his back.

Sam lathered him up, enjoying passing her hands and the soap bar over his defined muscles. She wove her fingers into his hair, rubbing the soap into his scalp, wanting the locks to be squeaky clean. She hummed a little as she started to work lower, massaging his firm buttocks.

“I think my arse is clean enough, Samira.”

Sam teased him by passing the bar of soap through his legs, swiping it quickly against his balls, making him groan again, before working her way up and down the columns of his legs. When he turned around so she could access the front of him, his manhood was pointing right at her. Sam soaped the rest of him up quicker now just so she could spend extra time on _that_ part of him.

She gripped him in her soapy fingers, sliding both hands up and down the length of him. Cullen rested his hands on her shoulders, leaning on her. “Samira, I always enjoy all your – handiwork – but let us finish the task at hand and then we can take our time?”

Sam let go of him with a huff. Cullen waded into the water to rinse himself off before heading back to her. She picked up the rough sponge now, ready to scrub him down. She did the work thoroughly, brushing him down hard enough to make his skin red in places. He rinsed off once again and then approached her.

“It’s your turn, Samira.” She took a step backwards from him but he had already grabbed her by the wrist. “What’s there to be so shy about? Come along, girl.”

Cullen gave her the same treatment she had given him, soaping and scrubbing her all over. He rubbed the bar of soap against her folds, making her whimper. He took extra time on her round breasts and buttocks, kneading and caressing her firm flesh until she was squeezing her knees together, wishing for another release.

He pressed a finger against her entrance, finding it ready for him. “I think you’ve waited long enough, Blackmyre.” He made her squeak with surprise when he lifted her out of the water, holding her up easily in his arms. Sam held on to the back of his neck and wrapped her legs around him as he impaled her with his cock.  She threw her head back in bliss, almost letting go, but he kept her pinned there, as he bucked up into her. Samira grinned, laughing to herself. Of course he could rut her standing up. The man could do anything.

Samira pulled herself in closer, whispering hoarsely in his ear with the voice he was bringing back to life in her. “Why, how - how is it – every time you fuck me – it’s better than the last time?”

He thrusted into her hard in response, making her gasp. “You inspire me. Your skin inspires me. Your insatiable, throbbing pussy inspires me. Your lips inspire me.” He kept up his steady rhythm, knowing he was driving her out of her mind. “Your voice inspires me, Samira.”

“Cullen”, Sam moaned his name out loud, looking into his eyes. The sound of her voice made his balls tighten, he was going to come again soon. He scooped her off of him and put her back on her feet, turning her around. She leaned forward and put her hands on a moss-covered rock at the edge of the water. He plowed back into her, continuing his work.

“Samira, when I return, I want to hear you sing again. “  
“Yes, Cullen…”  
“You will sing for me, in bed, because I am your patron now, bard.”  
“Yes, Cullen!”

He slapped her ass, delighting when the shock made her tighten around him. He reached forward and pulled her hair at the temple, pressing her back against his chest, where he held her tight. Cullen whispered in her ear, “And when I get back – I want to fuck your other entrance. Do you remember how hard you came with just my finger?”

An epic shudder erupted throughout Samira’s body and she tipped over the edge, her spine arching. She called out into the forest around them, “Oh _fuck,_ oh Maker, fuck fuck _fuck, Cullen!_ ” He followed her over the precipice as he emptied his seed into her with a satisfied hiss.

They waded into the deeper water together, Cullen simply holding her in his arms as they floated together. The sun was getting lower when he picked her up out of the water, grabbing his kit and towel and carrying her back to the boulder.

Sam looked at his face as they walked. “I don’t want you to leave,” she said, in a soft voice.  
“I will be back, because you want me to come back.”

They shared the towel as best as they could before putting their clothes back on. Samira kept smiling every time she looked at him.  

“What’s so funny, Samira?”  
“Your hair – it’s so curly. And adorable,” she whispered at him. “You should leave it like that always.”  
“Nobody will listen to a Commander with ‘adorable’ hair, Sam.”

They rode back to Skyhold together, Cullen sometimes stopping to pull on her reins, halting her pony so he could steal a kiss.

As they got closer to home, Cullen remembered a question he had. “Where did your slate go, Sam?”

Sam made a sound of disgust and cleared her voice a few times before she spoke. “Dorian made me mad. He wanted to bet me that Naya was going to come back from Adamant with your twins in her belly.”

She still looked mad about it. “He was just trying to get me to speak. It worked. I broke my slate and yelled at him.”

Cullen made a sound of disdain. “Typical Dorian. He _would_ only know how to make a woman scream in anger. He doesn’t know about the many other ways.”

It was Samira’s turn to stop their horses now. Her stormy blue eyes flashed at him. She didn’t have to clear her throat or whisper the next part. “If you knock her up, I will set your balls on fire.”

“Andraste’s blessed arse, Samira. I won’t, I promise. I – wasn’t going to. Honest.”

Sam grabbed Cullen by the tunic and pulled him for a hard, angry kiss, almost causing him to slip off his horse.

They continued home in silence, glancing at each other's profiles, sometimes shyly making eye contact that always made Sam blush. As they passed through Skyhold’s gates, the guards on watch saluted Cullen, and Sam decided to surprise them.

“Hello Oliver, Gerard, Bran, Wallis.” Samira’s voice cracked a little, but judging by their faces, they all heard her. The Songbird of Skyhold was getting her voice back.

They gaped at her as she passed. Bran had always been sweet on her so he walked alongside her pony for a bit. “Sam, that’s bloody marvelous! You sound lovely already! Maybe later, we could - ”

The Commander shot Bran a look over his shoulder and the guard stopped in his tracks. He knew the sharp, openly possessive look in his eyes would be telegraphed to everyone in the barracks by their march tomorrow.

Cullen walked Samira to Dorian’s usual spot in the library. They found him pouring over a Qunari dictionary, squinting at the words.

“Hello, Dorian.”  
“What! What did you just say?”  
“I said hello, you daft mage.”

Dorian scooped Samira up in his arms, twirling her around. When he put her down he was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s because I helped earlier, right? When I made you really, really angry, it broke the spell?”

Dorian felt a finger jabbing at his shoulder, a little painfully. Cullen was poking him, nudging him away from his woman. “No, I broke the spell, mage. You might have started it but I finished your work. Two times I might add. Two times in a row.”

The Vint’s eyes went hazy as Cullen towered over him. He leaned down closer to his ear. “I cured her with my cock, in case you weren’t getting it.”

Dorian swallowed and Sam smiled to herself, knowing Dorian was probably turned on. “I did get it. But. You might want to find less explicit way of telling Vivienne how you helped.”

Cullen slapped Dorian hard on the back and laughed whole-heartedly, the sound of his voice filling the library and the rookery above.

“Come along, Samira. Walk me to my quarters.”

They headed for the stairs but Sam shot a saucy look at Dorian.

“Oh _do_ give it a rest, you two. You should save some of that energy for the battlefield, Commander.”

___

Sam watched in total despair and disappointment as Cullen pulled on his armor piece by piece, turning back into the man the world needed to be. She also got to see him smooth down his hair with some sort of pomade, hiding the playful curls once again.

“Why are you putting your armor on, shouldn’t you rest now?”  
“I am going to hold vigil in the chapel tonight. I will not sleep, I will not eat, I will only pray. It is something I learned when I was a Templar, Samira. It gives me focus, endurance, stamina.”

“Oh I know all about your stamina. I was just hoping…we could – be together one more time.”

Cullen touched her cheek with a hand not yet covered by his gauntlet. “Isn’t it an old adage in your line of business, bard? _Always leave them wanting more_?”

Samira pouted, kissing his palm, before following him to the chapel. Cullen kissed her goodbye, so softly and gently, as though she herself were something sacred.

“This is it, Sam. You should go rest, get better, and be ready to sing for me when I return.”

Sam pulled off one of her gloves and curled it into his hand. “Will you take my token with you?”

Cullen raised the glove to his lips with reverence, before tucking it into his breast plate. She watched him join a handful of Templars at the altar to Andraste, each of the kneeling before her, forehead pressed to the pommels of their swords.

She closed the door and ran to her room, where she sobbed emphatically for a few hours, a little over-emotional about having her voice back coupled with losing him again so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S RIGHT
> 
> CULLEN'S COCK CAN CURE ALL


	13. Chapter 13

Weeks went by without any word from Adamant, but the Spymaster was steadfast about not worrying or fretting. It’s hard to dash off a note when you are dealing with three or four pride demons. Samira moped around the castle with very little to do. The healers were fully restocked with herbs, Josie was out of letters to write, Leliana was very terse company. The only highlight in Sam’s days without Cullen was sneaking into his loft to lie on his bed, hugging his pillow like a teenager, sometimes pleasuring herself too, thinking he would like that. But most of the days crawled by in the mountains. One boring afternoon, Cabot found her standing on her tip-toes on a precarious chair, dusting one of the rafters in the Herald’s Rest.

“That’s it, missy. Stop procrastinating and go practice! I haven’t heard a single musical note out of your mouth in the last fortnight, only mopey whining.”

Samira sulked back to her room. She had been afraid since the afternoon Dorian made her shout that her voice would not have the same silky quality to it anymore. She had heard plenty of bards before, and she knew she had one of the best voices she had ever heard. What if it wasn’t the same anymore? The thought worried her.

Sam opened the trunk where she had packed away her instruments when she thought she would never sing again. As soon as she saw her old lute, a little dusty under the strings, she felt an immense pang of guilt. These instruments were her old friends, she shouldn’t have neglected them so long. She had been wrapped up in too much self-pity. Never again, she vowed – even if Cullen did not return. She would never go this long again without playing music.

She spent the next few days singing and rehearsing in her room, going through her usual repertoire, looking through sheet music at the more unfamiliar songs. She practiced Naya’s Dalish lullaby every night, and wrote to a few friends in Orlais to find out if they knew any more songs of her people.

Sam was going for a walk and a smoke across the battlements, whistling to herself, when she saw a little horse-drawn wagon pull up to the gates. She didn’t think much about it, they got deliveries all the time, but the sound of Josie’s rather high-pitched squealing did sound suspicious. She kept meandering around the castle, until one of the elven healer girls startled her near the south tower.

“Samira! The Ambassador and Spymaster have been looking for you! Maker’s breath, we know you went mute but deaf also is a bit of a stretch.” Sam stuck her tongue out at the girl before skimming down the steps to the courtyard.

“Josie, Leliana, you were looking for me?”

Samira looked at the driver of the cart – ever since the Comte, Orlesians in masks made her nervous, but the man didn’t give her a second look. Cabot, Master Dennet, and two of his stable boys unloaded the heavy crate.

Josie’s eyes twinkled as she grabbed Samira’s hand. “There has been a very special delivery for you, Samira. Take it to the tavern, boys.”

Sam followed the mystery box to the Herald’s Rest. Some of the men from the armory had shown up out of curiosity, along with a contingent of healer girls.

Dennett got the thing open using the claw end of one of his hammers and the men reached in to lift out the mystery object, placing it on one of the long tables.

Cabot scratched his head. “And exactly what is this supposed to be?”

Samira felt weak-kneed. “It’s a pianoforte. A real pianoforte. I don’t understand, did a note come with it?”

Josie and Leliana exchanged a smug look as Leliana handed Sam a folder. She opened it up and found stacks of sheet music – and an invoice, made out to one Cullen Stanton Rutherford.

She looked up at the two women. “How could he have known? He’s not…magic, is he?”

“Dorian informed on your wishes, darling. He told one of my agents, apparently during one of their trysts,” Leliana said with a purr.  
Josie’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Naya and I were worried there were no more artisans making them anymore, so we had to network across all our contacts to find a nobleman willing to get rid of one. Well, will you play it for us?”

Sam picked through the music, finding a favorite of hers. She put the two pieces of paper down on the instrument’s little stand, cracking her knuckles in preparation.

“I haven’t played in so long! Once, in Nevarra, the pub I worked in had one in the corner.”

The pianoforte had a twinkly, elegant sound, it made Josie clap her hands together in delight. Sam’s fingers – with the nails finally growing back – travelled up and down the keyboard, the baroque music filling the air. “The Herald’s Rest is finally becoming a proper place to entertain our guests, now if Cabot would only let me redecorate – “

The man crossed his arms. “No, no bloody way. No velvet, no silk, no brocade. Sam is the only ornament we need.”

She smiled at Cabot as the song came to an end. Leliana lifted the lid of the instrument to show her her name etched into the surface. “A gift – not just from him, but from the Inquisition too. You are one of our best spies, and our only bard. So get to practicing! We hope they will be home soon.”

 ___

  
Samira was waiting on the battlements near Cullen’s office, where he always used to wait for Naya. It had become part of her daily ritual to watch the road like he always did, waiting for him to come over the horizon. She smoked her clove cigarettes, sat on the wall and played her lute.

Her cigarette slipped loose from her lips and fell off the side of the castle. Samira saw the first Inquisition bannerman appear on the road, just a dot at the moment. She slung her lute over her back and went running across the battlements to the towers near the gates.

Her voice was definitely no longer lost. She yelled, whooped, hollered. “They are back! They are back!” Sam ran right into Knight-Captain Grayson, the man she had helped save, who stayed behind with the small contingent of guards keeping watch over Skyhold.

“Samira, be careful! You could have knocked me out of the castle!”  
“Please may I see your spyglass, Ser? I want to get a better look!”

He guided her to the guard tower, where one of the men was already peering out of the window. Grayson handed her his spyglass and she took position at the other small window. The two watching the road grew silent.

“What’s wrong?”

Sam swept the eyeglass over the crowds, looking for familiar faces. She felt her heart squeeze as she realized not even Varric wore a smile. There was a terrible, heavy air of gloominess hanging over the entire army. Wagons carrying the sick and the dead followed the ranks as Sam swept over the crowd looking for Naya and Cullen.

“I don’t see the Inquisitor and the Commander…”

The other man with a spyglass located them in the crowd. “Middle of the column, Sam. Back a bit, not at the front. The Seeker is riding next to her…”

Sam finally found them. Naya looked beyond exhausted, her face tear-stained and drawn, and Cullen and Cassandra were in similar condition. She watched as Cullen had to reach for Naya’s reins to steer her horse. They exchanged a few words as he handed them back to her, and then she held out her hand to him and he clutched it tightly. They rode like this, as Naya began crying again.

Samira handed the spyglass back to Knight-Captain Grayson. “We should prepare ourselves for the worst. Perhaps the worst has happened already.”

Sam went back to her room to change into her nurse’s uniform and drop her lute off. She braided her hair tight and headed for the infirmary, where nurses and mages were already bustling about, having heard the bells tolling in the courtyard. As much as she wanted to see Cullen right away, she knew he would be busy. There more important matters at hand besides wanting to thread her fingers through his mane and pull him down onto her waiting body.

_Concentrate, Samira._

The wounded began pouring into the ward and she got to work, following the surgeon until she could hardly stand. It was nearly midnight by the time they had helped the most serious cases. There was no way she was singing tonight, even if there were people waiting for her.

She was about to crawl to her room when Sam noticed that the nurses had grouped around the bed of a wounded infantryman who lost his sight in the battle. He recounted to them with an unsteady voice that after a dragon attack, he had seen Naya fall into a Rift with Dorian, Cassandra and Varric – along with Hawke the Champion and the Grey Warden Stroud. They didn’t reappear for a while, and Cullen had argued with his captains about what to do, the Commander demanding they hold off the rampaging demons until they all came back. Samira wondered about the man he was on the battlefield, she felt a jolt of jealousy knowing it was a side of him Naya got to see.

Sam pulled herself from her thoughts and heard the end of the soldier’s story. Stroud had not emerged from the Fade, but everyone else had. And they were all changed from the experience. The Inquisitor had nightmares the entire journey home. There it was again, anxiety and jealousy bubbling up inside of her. Cullen had plenty of experience with nightmares, maybe he came into her tent at night to soothe her, hold her as she wept. Maybe Naya reached up and touched his cheek, moved by his kindness. Maybe he pressed his lips to hers to calm her as her hands became more urgent, holding on to him, finding strength in his broad shoulders. Panic began to seize her – she had no right to these thoughts, not in the middle of all this impossible madness.

Samira stormed out of the infirmary, pulling off her bloody apron, dropping it in the courtyard, ignoring the greetings of the soldiers she passed. She only wanted a bath, and sleep.  

___

It took a week for some of the Inquisition to regain some sense of balance. Sam felt relieved when she found Krem and Iron Bull hanging out in the Herald’s Rest in their usual corner, drinking their terrible liquor and cracking each other up. She pinched Dorian on the bum when she saw him taking the last cinnamon bun at breakfast one morning and had to avoid a bum pinching of her own when Sera showed up to steal that bun off of Dorian’s plate. Sam still served as Vivienne’s knitting spindle, and on her way to see the enchantress, she saw Varric telling stories by his favorite spot near one of the main hall’s fireplaces.

Sam gave Cullen and Naya plenty of space. She knew what it was like to go through a serious trauma and the last thing you need is someone with even the best of intentions asking you a series of pointless, painful questions. Samira felt strange about singing when the Inquisitor was so depressed, so at the Herald’s Rest, she entertained the troops with pianoforte music. Most of these Fereldan boys had never even seen a pianoforte, so they remained plenty mystified, even if they didn’t recognize any of the music.

One afternoon, Sam was reading one of Varric’s hilariously smutty novels to a recovering Inquisition soldier, doing all the voices for the spellbound girl, when she received a typically brief message from Leliana. “War room – as soon as possible.” Sam apologized to the girl, leaving the book at her bedside, promising to return.

Sam smoothed herself down before opening the door to the war room, and forced herself not to gasp when she saw Cullen standing behind the big table, signing something for a messenger. He stopped in mid-signature, staring at her, his mouth open a little. They hadn’t looked upon each other in almost two months now. Samira cleared her throat before speaking, trying not to turn into a puddle of bard in front of her lover.

“H-hello, Commander.”  
“ _Samira,_ ” he drawled in that very particular way she loved, sounding out each syllable in her exotic name.

Samira started to giggle to herself, so incredibly nervous and turned on at the same time, and Cullen nearly joined her too until Leliana cleared her voice from the other side of the room.

“Other people still exist, you know!”  
“Sorry, Spymaster. How can I help you today?”

Josie shooed Cullen’s messenger out of the room before Leliana continued.

“You need to get back to singing, this entire fortress needs a pick me up. No more bloody pianoforte music.”

Samira glanced at Cullen. “Oh but it’s such a lovely instrument. I treasure it every day. When I put my hands on it…it makes me feel so good.” She made him blush, and in that instant she knew she’d be riding him good and hard later.

Josie let a little _ugh_ escape from her lips and Samira refocused. “Sorry, Sister Leliana. I’ll get back to the fun stuff. I promise.”

“Before you do though, we have a request. Tonight we are going to make Naya accompany us to the Herald’s Rest. Please try to cheer her up. Pick something good.”

Sam started to open her mouth but Josie beat her to it. “And not that Dalish lullaby! She might like that but the rest of us, ugh. It too sweet, it gives me indigestion.”

“Alright, I have my orders. No indigestion, no pianoforte music. We can still drink though, right?”

“Maker, I hope so“, Leliana groaned as she began to lead her back to the war council door. “On your way, bard. We will see you tonight after dinner, around 9 bells.”

Samira looked over her shoulder at Cullen, who was giving her such a smoldering look she thought her smalls would catch on fire.

The door shut behind her and she heard Leliana snap at him. “Keep it in your pants, Rutherford!”  
“It _is_ in my pants!”

Sam snickered to herself and headed for her room to rehearse. It was up to her to cheer up the Inquisition tonight – and then later, she would run their Commander through some very vigorous drills.

___

  
There was a thick feeling of anticipation in the air that night in the Herald’s Rest. Samira suspected Varric had found out Naya was going to be pulled out of hiding and had spread the word in his usual gossip-addicted way. Sam laid off the baroque piano music and went back to a more pleasing repertoire of drinking songs about cuckolded husbands and improbable virgins.

Ale and brandy and whiskey flowed freely. Sam could feel everyone getting back to where they were before they went to Adamant – until the tavern door opened, revealing Naya surrounded by her councilors. Josie had her hand firmly in hers, in case Naya tried to turn to flee. Sam made eye contact with Cullen, behind the three ladies. He gave Sam an encouraging look.

Naya said hello to the soldiers around her and as they stepped into the tavern, everyone saluted her with the Inquisition’s standard greeting, a fist over the heart. Josie led her to Samira’s side, and she had a glass of wine waiting for her. Naya raised it to her soldiers and her friends. “To Stroud.” They echoed her sentiments as glasses and mugs were held in the air.

Sam guided Naya to the pianoforte, bidding her to sit down on the bench next to her. “Inquisitor, I was wondering if you would lead us in a song tonight.”

Naya blushed, and tried to get up from the bench but Sam pulled her back down again as gently as possible.

“Samira, you’re the singer around here, nobody wants to hear me butcher a tune.”

Sam said nothing further, only turned toward her keyboard and played a few familiar chords. Naya held her breath a little. It was “Before the Dawn”, the song they had all sang together in the snow outside of Haven, during a critical turning point in their organization’s history. Sam worked her way through the song without singing, with just the piano – and then started it again, giving Naya a look. _You can do it, show them you can. Show them you’re strong._

Naya cleared her voice and started singing. _“Shadows fall, and hope has fled – steel your heart, the dawn will come.”_

Sam joined in with her, harmonizing with her prettily _. “The night is long, and the path is dark – look to the sky, for one day soon – the dawn will come.”_

Leliana’s voice almost startled Sam, blending in with theirs, adding another layer of harmony. The three women together sounded better than any choir. _“The shepherd’s lost, and his home is far. Keep to the stars, the dawn will come.”_

The fourth voice to join in to harmonize sent shivers up and down Samira’s spine. She had to concentrate on not hitting the wrong keys on the instrument in front of her, as Cullen’s deep voice met with theirs for the last verse. _“Bare your blade, and raise it high. Stand your ground, the dawn will come.”_

Sam was amazed when Leliana and Cullen knew instinctively, like she did, to let Naya sing the last repeated line by herself. _“The dawn will come.”_

There was a pause of silence – followed by cheers and applause that made the walls of the little tavern shake. People banged their ale mugs on the tables, whistled and clapped and hollered. Naya turned bright red and Sam made her stand up to take a bow. Cabot and his barkeep were inundated with drink requests and the jovial spirit of the bar came to life again.

Naya sat down next to Samira as she played a cheery song on the pianoforte. She leaned in so Sam could hear her over the din of the bar. “Thank you, Samira. I needed that. We all needed that.”

“No, thank you, Inquisitor. I am proud to serve under you.”

Naya drank her wine and rested her head on Sam’s shoulder as she played. Cullen watched the two women from across the room with great affection.

“Sam, I didn’t get a chance to tell you before we left, but I’m sure you heard. I broke up with Solas. He wasn’t – you know. Doin’ it for me.”

Sam smiled at her rather down to earth tone. “Naya, I’m glad. You deserve to get what you want.”

Naya always got drunk off of just a few sips of wine and now she whispered hotly into Sam’s ears. “I’ve started seeing someone new, you know.”

Sam looked up and scanned the bar, trying to take a guess at who it could be by who was staring at the elven beauty next to her. She had a few too many admirers for her to guess.

“Well, who is it?”  
“Knight-Captain Brennan. He’s in charge of our pikeman. And – what a pike he has.”

Sam hit a few false notes on the piano, coughing a bit. She looked up toward where Cullen was standing and saw Brennan with him, almost as tall as her man, with a trim beard, dark hair and flashing green eyes. The two men were bellowing and laughing together, and then they stopped abruptly and looked at the two of them, making them blush in tandem.

“Very nice work, Naya. He looks – very capable.”  
“Oh he is, he does this thing, with his fingers, and his mouth – “  
“Naya, if you’re going to be overly descriptive, then please go get me another drink.”

Naya practically fell off the piano bench and headed for the bar. Sam watched as her big new beau picked her up in his arms, making her giggle, the two of them not caring who saw what they were up to. Sam realized she wasn’t going to get that drink delivery once Brennan swept her out of the Herald’s Rest. She tried to get Dorian’s attention nearby but he and Iron Bull were having an amicable disagreement with each other that seemed to be making all the Chargers laugh.

Samira was just about to get up and get her own damned drink when Cullen sat down next to her with a big goblet of wine.

“Bard.”  
“Commander. Thank you for the drink.”  
“I expect something in return for that.”  
“Oh, and what would that be?”

Cullen’s voice turned serious, and full of meaning. “The song you sung at the party, before I nearly lost you. Play it again, Sam. For old time’s sake.”

Samira stopped playing for a moment, just staring at Cullen. She realized then and there that they would never be parted again, that they would love each other until only death separated them. She had everything she had ever dreamed of – a man who would protect her, respect her, worship her and yearn for her voice. She did not need a man with a title, a fine Orlesian palace, silk dresses or velvet cushions to sit on. She only needed _him_.

Samira cleared her throat, sipped her wine, and began the song. Her voice had dropped only a little since the blood magic. It might not be as silky and high-toned as before – now her voice took on a decidedly more sultry feel, it had texture and an earthiness to it. Cullen liked it even more tonight, as she crooned – _“Crazy, crazy for feeling – so lonely…”_

Cullen leapt to his feet, almost knocking her off the piano bench. One stern look and all of his soldiers went silent so Samira could continue.

___

  
Samira sang and played long past midnight, until only the passed out customers were left in the Herald’s Rest. She helped Cabot clean up a bit, roused the drunks out into the cold, and locked up for the night.

Sam headed toward Cullen’s office, her lute case in hand. It felt liberating to not have to _worry_ about the status of their relationship anymore. She could just walk up the steps, open the door to his office, and head up the ladder.

Cullen was sleeping, she hated disturbing the rest she knew he needed. Sam considered sneaking back out again, but he rolled over in his sleep and blinked his eyes open.

“Sam?”  
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you – I can catch you on the morrow, you go back to sleep.”  
“No, come here, that’s an order.”

He was surveying her with a sleepy look on his face, his head on the pillow. She turned around to disrobe, having a random moment of modesty with a man who knew her body intimately. When Sam turned back around, he had pulled the covers back for her. She got into bed next to him, the heat of his body making the broken roof above them less of a nuisance.

“I thought you were going to – you know…”  
“Hmm?”  
“Tumble with me good and hard tonight…”  
“You should have left work earlier if you wanted that, bard. Sleep for now, rutting later.”  
“I love you, Cullen.”  
“And I adore you, Samira.”

They settled in together, one of his arms holding her close. “No sneaking out tonight, alright?”  
“Yes. I promise.” Sam kissed his scar and he practically purred in contentment back at her.

***

The next morning, Samira was disturbed from her sleep by Cullen’s stern voice. Her eyes fluttered open to find him above her, a hand on either side of her head on the bed.

“Wake up, Samira.”  
“What’s wrong, did something happen? Should I go?”

She received her answer when she felt Cullen’s stiff cock against her leg.

“Oh.”

Sam reached down beneath the sheets and felt for him. He was so hard, harder than she had ever felt him be. She had never been with him in the morning before. Cullen’s face was full of lusty determination.

“I have not woken up next to a woman – ever, Samira. In my entire life. I have never pulled back the sheets and found a luscious, beautiful body next to mine.” He palmed one of Samira’s breasts, lowering his head to suck on the nipple of the other one.

“Poor Commander Cullen, so deprived. All his life, he had to deal with _this_ –“ Samira grasped his cock under the sheets. “- every morning, on his own. However did he survive?”

She stroked him lightly, up and down the shaft, and then ran a thumb over the head, swiping at the bit of wetness that was already there.

“ _Fuck_ , Samira. I must taste you, right now.”

He scrambled down the bed and opened her legs, kissing her right on the clit. It made Sam hiss with delight as he licked her outer folds all over, before opening her up fully and darting the tip of his tongue against her. Sam propped herself up on some of his pillows, always reveling in the sight of his face between her legs. She sent a prayer of thanks to the Maker for this man with his magical mouth, who truly savored this act of lovemaking. He dipped two fingers into her heat and crooked them, making her nearly buck right off the mattress. He kept licking and sucking and kissing, flicking at her with the tip of his tongue, side to side, often looking up to see her expressions, watching her drop her head back in wonder, as she touched her own breasts during his work.

Cullen stopped for a moment, his ring finger against her other entrance, testing it gently, sliding in just to the knuckle. Sam opened her eyes and looked at him. “Oh, this again, I see?”

“I want more from you today, Samira. I want to be _deep_ in your beautiful arse. All of me.”

She blushed and shuddered at the thought. He was so big – and very hard this morning. “Cullen, don’t you have to – drill the troops this morning? I wouldn’t want to rush you…”

Cullen used his other hand to put two fingers against her clit, vibrating them quickly, making her gasp and swear.

“My office doors are locked, there is a note attached to one of them. I am – indisposed – until midday.”

He kept at it with those two fingers, and the one sliding into her ass – and then he pressed his lips against her again and she shattered, crying out, going very stiff, and then very limp.

Cullen got up on his knees and pushed his rock hard erection into her, the two of the moaning together. She could hear the sounds of the courtyard coming to life outside, and it just made their leisurely lovemaking a little more delicious.

“I’m going to make you come so many times this morning you won’t be able to walk out of here. You’ll just have to stay in my bed until I get back, so I can repeat the process over again.”

Sam bit her lip, her first orgasm had already made her speechless. She just nodded at the muscled warrior plowing in and out of her at the moment.

“Nothing to say, slut? You are just going to lie there and take it?”

She nodded again, raising her hips to meet his every time he rammed into her. “You’re going to take more of me by the time I’m done.”

Sam whimpered as he went back to playing with her pearl as he slid in and out of her.  Cullen paused in his work to reach for a drawer in the nightstand.

“What’s in there?”  
“You’ll see.”

Cullen opened the box to show her – nestled in the velvet within was an oddly shaped small object, made of glass, and a little vial of oil she recognized from her trip to Val Royeaux.

“Someone’s been thinking about this for a while…”  
“Hands and knees, Samira. I intend on conquering every bit of you.”

Sam stacked up two pillows and leaned into them, grinning to herself. She felt him oil her up and then very gently, he eased the mystery object into her ass. She arched her back when the stretching got a little painful, but he shushed her, running a soothing hand down her back, one of his index fingers returning to her clit to massage her into relaxing.

“Are you alright, Samira?”  
“Yes, you fool, you’re driving me crazy with your questions.”

He slapped her on the right butt cheek for her impertinence and she giggled, wondering if the men going through their drills below his window heard that. Cullen repositioned himself on the bed behind her as he pressed the tip of his manhood back into her overstimulated pussy. She now felt incredibly full, she groaned from the new sensations. Cullen, her master, always pushing her into new realms.

He moved in and out of her slowly, taking his time, basking in the constant groans Samira was issuing, sometimes over her shoulder at him, sometimes into the pillow. His jagged breathing let her know he was trying to control himself as much as possible, last longer than usual. He never stopped teasing her clit, keeping her fire stoked and burning for him.

Cullen felt her growing tighter, her panting coming faster and faster – he knew it was time to test Samira’s boundaries.

“Are you ready, Sam?”  
“Yes, I am yours – all of me.”  
“On your back, Samira. I want to watch your face.”

He carefully removed the object that had been training her to take him. Sam was almost dizzy with the feelings he was summoning in her, she had to wipe a little drool from the corner of her mouth before he flipped her over. Cullen kept a pillow under her hips to position her at the right angle as he oiled up his stiff manhood.

“Touch yourself, Samira. I love watching you pleasure yourself.”

She strummed herself while Cullen aimed himself at her tightest hole. He went torturously slow, so as not to hurt her, practically creeping in while he cooed dirty things at her.

“Would you let me bring one of my Knight-Captains into our bedroom? Would you suck two cocks for me? How about three? I would like to see that.”

His voice just made her writhe on the pillow, helping him in his work, pushing him into her even more. She silently added “dirty talk” to Cullen’s always growing list of talents in the bedroom.

“I want to see you between the all of us. I want to fuck you while you suck one of my friends off. Which one? Do you want him to be thick or long? Is he even bigger than me?”

Sam’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed. Cullen was halfway in now, and he thought he was going to pass out from bliss. “Sam, you are so – incredibly hot and tight.”

She couldn’t respond any more, the only words that spilled from her lips were _fuck_ and _more_ and _Cullen please_. Her hand dropped away from her womanhood, as she tumbled into oblivion. He took up her task and she thought vainly that he was better at touching her than she could ever be. She tried to form the words to tell him but nothing came out but wanton moans.

“You are so wet, you are gushing for me, Samira. You love it in your ass.”  
She swallowed a few times before she remembered how to speak again. “Fuck me, Cullen. Let go.”

He undulated his hips into her, obeying her every wish. If there were guards on watch nearby, they surely heard the two of them. He slapped four fingers against all the creamy wetness pouring out of her making her gasp and push against him. Samira went stiff again, a powerful orgasm silencing her as she fell to pieces. He watched the ecstasy rolling over her, her womanhood squeezing without anything in her and it took all of that ex-Templar discipline not to follow her over the edge.

“That’s two times bard. I once promised you _five_ , do you remember?”  
“You’re going to kill me, Cullen.”  
“How about _three_ today? It’s good to have goals to aspire to.”

He slid two fingers back into her, and she shook her head at him.

“I can’t!”  
“You can.”

Cullen got his thumb to work now, rubbing her swollen clit and Samira began to thrash on the bed under him. “I can’t!” He crooked the two fingers inside her and flicked her faster, still buried deep in her tight ass. He had her on the verge of tears and now he was very close too.

“You can, Samira.”  
“Say my name again.”  
“ _Samira._ ” Cullen growled at her and she shattered again, crying out and arching off the bed, slamming her hands down and digging her fingernails into the sheets. At the sound of her climax Cullen exploded, watching the two tears he had wrenched from her rolling down her cheeks.

He gently withdrew from her and collapsed on the bed next to her with a satisfied huff, dropping a heavy arm across her body. Samira stared at his broken ceiling above the bed, at the light blue sky above. A tiny dot of a raven flew across the sky and Samira felt like she had been far away from Skyhold while they were making love, like Cullen had taken her to a different – and higher - plane of existence. She had to work on coming back to reality, breathing deeply, listening to the clash of practice swords in the yard below, Chantry sisters crossing by, the creak of wagon wheels and banners whipping in the wind.

“Samira? You’re very quiet.”  
“Five is really going to kill me, Cullen.”  
“I have a lot of lost time to make up for, Samira. I never had room in my life for this. All of this.”  
“So what you’re saying is you’re _going to make me have five orgasms even if I die from it_?”

Cullen propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her with great seriousness as though she were a young soldier he was mentoring. “I think you can do it, Samira. It will take a lot of hard work, and discipline, but I believe in you.” Sam gave him a playful shove.

“I love you, Blackmyre. Are you mine?”  
“Always.”

He dipped his head to kiss her and she twined a hand in his hair – wrapping a bit of it around a finger. When he pulled away, she teased the piece of hair into a perfect curl on his forehead. His eyes flashed at her.

“Don’t do that!”  
“So cute! It’s too much! Look how it curls when I barely do anything to it!”

He batted away her hands and grabbed her by the wrists, pinning her down, on top of her again, the edge in his voice made her stop giggling. “Samira.”

Her mouth opened slightly – could they really start up again? Cullen saw the look of disbelief on her face before he lowered his head to draw a nipple into his mouth, drawing a sigh from her lips. Somewhere in the distance Sam heard the bells in the chapel, signaling it was noon.

“Cullen. Duty calls.”  
“But what about _four_? Four is a nice number, maybe not as good as five…”

A knock at one of the doors in his office made him dismount from her with a petulant grunt, blaming himself for having drilled punctuality into his officers. Cullen took a few shaky steps to the ladder and yelled down into his office: “Tell them I’m on my way, for fuck’s sake!”

Samira pulled the sheets up over her, back to laughing at him. She laid on her side, watching him get ready for the day, staring with longing as he wiped himself down at the washbasin and pouting as he smoothed down the curls in his hair. As he put on his armor for the day, Sam reached for her lute case sitting near the foot of the bed, taking out her favorite instrument and sitting back against the headboard. Once he had dropped on his cloak over his armor, he leaned down to kiss her.

“Be here when I get back.”  
“Yes, Commander.”  
“And the counter resets to zero this evening. No short cuts for you, Blackmyre. _Five_ is the number I seek.”

Samira threw a pillow at him and he ducked it, heading for his office.

Cullen stopped a few steps down the ladder and took in the sight of her in his bed in the morning light, hair tumbling over her breasts, playing her lute and humming to herself – she was as lovely as a painting, the Muse of Music in Post-Coital Bliss. She saw him pause to gaze at her and Samira gave him a smile that pierced his heart. He gave her a cocky little smile back before he disappeared for the day.

Cullen headed toward the war room, already wincing thinking about how loud the Inquisitor, Spymaster and Diplomat were going to squeal when he told them he would now need their help finding an engagement ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I have more Cullensmut in the works. 
> 
> Throw a little kudos and feedback into the hat, please!
> 
> I love all y'alls. Some of you Cullenmancers are such great writers, I just wanted to join in on the fun.


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